


Simon's

by Camden



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-29
Updated: 2010-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camden/pseuds/Camden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris embraces his gay in a rather dramatic fashion while working as a sous-chef in New York City and generally being a complete idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simon's

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/kradambigbang/profile)[**kradambigbang**](http://community.livejournal.com/kradambigbang/). Thanks so much to the mods from the Big Bang, my friends [](http://indyakasha.livejournal.com/profile)[**indyakasha**](http://indyakasha.livejournal.com/), [](http://anobakitay.livejournal.com/profile)[**anobakitay**](http://anobakitay.livejournal.com/), [](http://shatteredmemrys.livejournal.com/profile)[**shatteredmemrys**](http://shatteredmemrys.livejournal.com/), and so many others from [](http://community.livejournal.com/beepxbeepxbeep/profile)[**beepxbeepxbeep**](http://community.livejournal.com/beepxbeepxbeep/) for being tireless cheerleaders/whip-crackers, to [](http://naty-seixas.livejournal.com/profile)[**naty_seixas**](http://naty-seixas.livejournal.com/), [](http://cattttmd.livejournal.com/profile)[**cattttmd**](http://cattttmd.livejournal.com/), [](http://glassescafe.livejournal.com/profile)[**glassescafe**](http://glassescafe.livejournal.com/), [](http://cdvla313.livejournal.com/profile)[**cdvla313**](http://cdvla313.livejournal.com/), and [](http://ambroya.livejournal.com/profile)[**ambroya**](http://ambroya.livejournal.com/) for reading the first stirrings of this fic and telling me to keep going, and especially to [](http://amproof.livejournal.com/profile)[**amproof**](http://amproof.livejournal.com/) for going above and beyond in her help with this, including giving me many helpful suggestions on how to make it suck less. A huge thanks goes to [](http://risti.livejournal.com/profile)[**risti**](http://risti.livejournal.com/) for talking me into signing up! So much love to my amazing artist, [](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/profile)[**cleverboots**](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/), who has helped every step of the way and made this a true team effort. I'm so glad you picked me! Finally, my beta, [](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/profile)[**sbb23**](http://sbb23.livejournal.com/), who was completely and totally invaluable – I lucked out hooking up with you, bb! <3   
>   
> **View the wonderful art and download the soundtrack, courtesy of my partner in this crime,[](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/profile)[ **cleverboots**](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/), [HERE](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/3509.html) and [HERE](http://cleverboots.livejournal.com/3316.html#cutid1)**.

  
**Simon's**

  
When Kris's phone goes off at seven in the morning, he fumbles for it sleepily, assuming it must be an emergency of some kind. Anyone who knows him knows that he works until the wee hours of the morning and doesn't get up until at least ten.

But the person on the phone doesn't know him. "Hello?" Kris says, clearing his throat.

"Hello, Kris? My name's Alex. I'm sorry to call so early, but I got your name from – from a friend, and I thought you might like to go out. Like, a date? I heard you like music, so… We could maybe go to a concert or something?"

Kris clears his throat again, slightly confused, and says, "Sorry, man, I think you've got the wrong Kris. Hope you get a hold of him," and he ends the call.

Damn wrong numbers waking him up at the crack of dawn. He tosses the phone onto the bedside table and rolls over. He's just drifted back to sleep when the phone rings again. Kris groans and picks it up. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Kris, please?" a pleasant male voice asks.

"This is," Kris says, thinking that if it's another wrong number, he's going to be pissed.

"Hey, this is Ian Baker. I heard you were looking for someone to take you out, and it just so happens that I love charming Southern boys. Are you free this Friday? There's a string quartet in the park, and –"

Kris interrupts him before things can get stranger. "Sorry, but I think there's been a mistake. I'm not looking for a date, especially not with a man. No offense."

Ian laughs a little. "That's not what I heard. But if you change your mind, my number is…"

Kris hangs up before he can finish. Something seriously weird is going on, but it's seven thirty in the morning, and he'd been up until almost three the night before. Simon had been on a rampage at the restaurant, making them all catalog inventory until he'd been satisfied that everything was perfect. Simon isn't the worst boss that Kris has ever had, but he's certainly the pickiest, and needs everything to be just so.

Therefore, he's far too exhausted to deal with something that's probably another one of Matt's pranks. Matt's the griller at Simon's, and has, like most meat guys Kris has worked with, a tendency towards frat-dude style shenanigans. Usually his pranks are far less elaborate, more along the lines of butter on Kris's knife handles or button mushroom projectiles, but Kris wouldn't put prank calls past him. Figuring he has plenty of time to deal with Matt later, Kris turns off his phone, sending a silent apology to his mom who has apoplectic fits when she can't reach him.

He flips the pillow to the cool side, punching it into just the right shape. He falls back to sleep, figuring he can get to the bottom of the mystery calls when he's had more than four hours of sleep.

When he wakes up again around eleven, he stumbles to the bathroom, takes a shower, and gets dressed. He barely remembers the early morning calls until he sees his phone on the nightstand when he goes to grab his watch. He turns it back on as he walks into the kitchenette portion of his studio apartment, and he throws it on the counter so it can boot up – or whatever it is phones do – as he starts the coffee.

A few seconds later, his phone makes the series of beeps that means he has voicemail. He glances at the screen and does a double-take. Thirty-seven new messages. That can _not_ be right.

As the coffee smell fills the kitchen, Kris types in his passcode and tentatively holds the phone to his ear. It's some guy named Arturo who wants to take him to the Met. He quickly erases that message. The next is from a Levi who wants to know if he has a dog because maybe they could go to the dog park. Kris, who doesn't own a dog and is getting more and more freaked out, hangs up on the robotic voicemail lady.

He pours himself a cup of coffee and picks up the phone again. He ignores the blinking icon informing him that he has unheard voicemail and dials Matt.

It takes five rings before Matt answers. "Krispy Kreme! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Don't call me that. And you tell me. I've been getting some weird calls this morning."

"Define weird."

Kris ponders that for a second, scratching his calf with his opposite big toe. "Well, they all seem to be guys asking me out on dates."

Matt hoots at that. "I knew it! Noop-dizzle owes me fifty bucks!"

"Wait, _what_? I'm not gay!"

"You're not? Well, shit, son! Don't tell Anoop that. I already lost twenty to him on the Knicks game. I can't take another hit so soon."

Anoop is the operations manager at Simon's, and is Matt's best friend-slash-bitter enemy. They spend all their time together, yet they seem to spend most of it bickering. Or betting, apparently. They're also locked into a never-ending struggle for the affections of the restaurant's beautiful blonde hostess, Megan, which adds to their tension.

Kris sighs. "I'm not going to tell him because I'm _not_ going to discuss this! And why would you think I was gay? I'm engaged!" he protests.

"You _were_ engaged," Matt corrects. "Katy dumped your ass months ago, remember? And I bet Noop that it was because you played for the other team. Are you sure you don't? I could use that fifty bones. I'm taking Megan out this weekend."

"Matt, focus! Katy didn't _dump_ me, anyway. We decided that we were better off as friends." Kris doesn't mention that their decision came because Katy thought the same thing. The thing about Kris and guys. Kris closes his eyes tightly. He doesn't want to relive _that_ discussion.

"Anyway, my personal life isn't up for discussion," he insists, blushing a little. "Just tell me if you wrote my number in a bathroom stall somewhere so I can get to the bottom of this."

"You know, it probably would have been a good idea on account of the bet, but no, I didn't try to force you out of your comfortable closet. It seems like you're happy in there. Although I would like to win sooner rather than later. Inflation's a cock, you know."

"Fine, fine. I believe you," Kris tells him, because he does. Matt's the type who would definitely admit it if he were the culprit. He'd want the chance to gloat. "And can we just… not discuss this at work? It's bad enough that you and Anoop are talking about me behind my back. Some friends…"

"Hey, we _are_ your friends, man. And whatever you want to do is cool with us. We're totally supportive heteros. But maybe you should see if you like some of those guys asking you out? Just saying. I could use that fifty."

Deliberately, and with great satisfaction, Kris hangs up on him.

Then he sits down at the kitchen table with his coffee mug, resigned to listening to all thirty-five remaining voicemail messages in search of clues.

It takes seventeen excruciatingly embarrassing messages before he figures it out. "Yeah, this is Phillip. I saw your ad in Next and I just wanted to see if you were still looking for someone –" Kris hangs up on Phillip with a shaking finger. Despite transplanting from Arkansas almost five years ago, Kris is still not the most sophisticated New Yorker. He's not sure what Next is, but he can imagine. And the word "ad" has him shaken. He grabs his laptop from the other end of the table.

It only takes him a few seconds to ascertain that Next is a free magazine for the gay community. And they have _personal ads_. Kris looks at the time. He doesn't have to be to work until three, so he's got a couple of hours to head into Chelsea and see if he can scrounge up a copy of Next Magazine. Then he'll try to figure out who to kill.

____spacer____

  
Early afternoon on a Wednesday isn't exactly peak travel time, so Kris gets relatively few distractions on the subway to keep his mind from drifting. He's honestly not _gay_. Not really. It's just… Well…

Back in Arkansas, there hadn't really been anything to make him think he was any different from the other guys. Sure, he sometimes thought guys were attractive, but he played baseball instead of wrestling, so his homoerotic encounters were limited. He'd started dating Katy before he even finished puberty, and he never saw a reason to stop dating her. He'd loved her. Still did, honestly. And when he'd kissed her into the janitor's closet during homecoming junior year, and she'd fumbled her hand down his pants, he'd gotten hard. Gotten off. There had never been anything wrong in that department.

Same thing senior year when they'd had sex for the first time, lying on a blanket down by the creek that ran through his parents' property. There had never been issues. Not really.

And when Kris had decided to move to New York City the summer after graduation, leaving Katy behind with a year of school left, he'd put a ring on her finger before he went. A promise. Mainly because he was terrified of what would happen without Katy.

Not terrified that he'd have to face his "urges" as Katy had insinuated, her smile kind and sympathetic over those damning words. He simply didn't know anything other than being Katy's boyfriend and Katy's future husband. So she'd stayed behind in Arkansas, and instead of moving with him, like they'd discussed, she'd decided to go to college in Arkansas, too. Kris didn't really mind seeing her only a couple of times a year, which he'd thought was just indicative of a strong relationship, but had actually been something Katy had cited when she'd broken off the engagement.

It turned out that everything Kris had thought he'd been doing right was actually wrong. Katy didn't want space. She didn't want a boyfriend who didn't bug her for sex. She wanted him to get jealous of her male friends at college. She wanted him to complain when she couldn't come for a visit.

She had apparently wanted a lot of things that Kris hadn't known about. She'd been very gentle in explaining why she thought he was the way he was, and Kris had been so uncomfortable that he'd wanted to cry. He'd been torn between wanting to shout at her how wrong she was and wanting to bury his head in her lap and tell her she was right.

He still sort of feels that way, to be honest. His conversation with Matt is weighing on his mind. He's not one to let other people tell him how to feel, but if he's that transparent… The problem is that he doesn't know how to find out for sure. There's a world of difference between thinking guys can be hot, or even thinking that he might enjoy sex with one, and thinking he could have a real relationship with a man. All he knows is how to be with a girl. He doesn't know any other way to be, and he's not a real adventurous guy. Katy said he was "straight out of laziness" which is harsh. He's just not the sort of person who can go down to a gay bar and flirt with men and use his eyes and his hands to get someone to kiss him. How is he supposed to know? It's not laziness. It's just… complicated.

Thinking about all of that leaves him with a funny feeling, and he's grateful his stop is approaching. Of course, he's getting out in one of the gayest neighborhoods in Manhattan, but anything to pull him out of his head and give him something else to focus on is good.

He only has to check a few shops before he sees copies of Next. He grabs one and hurries out, not making eye contact with the clerk. He flips to the personals and scans. He sees it right away. It's big.

 _ **He is:** An adorable, Southern boy who thinks he's straight, with huge doe eyes, a fabulous butt, and charming manners. Likes sports and music. Great cook.  
 **You are:** Tall, handsome, patient, kind, masculine but sensitive, and experienced.  
 **Your mission:** Turn him. (It won't take much.) And DO NOT mention this ad.  
Signed, His ex-fiancée_

He realizes he's crumpled the edges in his fists. He's going to murder Katy. He doesn't even care what her new boyfriend – a giant college rugby player who probably doesn't _ever_ wait for her to initiate sex – will do to him. There's no way to move past this other than cold-blooded murder.

He leans against the wall outside the shop and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He'd had it on silent and the display indicates that he's missed twenty-one calls since he left the house. With a sigh, he ignores them and calls Katy.

It goes straight to voicemail. He grits his teeth as her cheerful voice says, "Hello, you've reached Katherine O'Connell. I'm not available to take your call, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. And if this is Kris, you'll thank me later."

Kris growls. At the beep, he says, "This has gone too far, Katy. I'm not happy. If you don't call me back, I'll... I'll... _I'll call your mother_." He hangs up, dearly wishing he had a better threat to make than that. He knows she won't call back, though. Not until she thinks he's sufficiently cooled down, which at this rate will be sometime next year. Katy's as stubborn as a mule when she gets behind an idea.

With a long-suffering sigh, Kris heads back to the subway. The last thing he needs today is Simon on his ass for being late.

____spacer____

  
When he gets to Simon's, there are a hundred things to do. It helps him keep his mind off his phone, which is sitting in his locker in the break room probably racking up another fifty voicemails. He throws himself into prep, mincing herbs, tossing chicken in to marinate, peeling potatoes, and all the other little tasks that add up to haute cuisine.

Thankfully, Matt's busy trimming the latest shipment of steaks, so other than a few gristle-flinging incidents, he doesn't bother Kris.

Prep is Kris's favorite time at the restaurant. Simon and Anoop do all the hard stuff, like making all the menu choices and combing through the inventory, seeing what needs to be used. Kris doesn't have to do anything but check the list Anoop leaves for him and get everything ready. After two years, he knows how to make every one of Simon's dishes almost as well as Simon himself, and he gathers the ingredients on autopilot.

Kris hums as he drizzles oil into a stockpot. It's nice and low-key during prep. Anoop and Simon are in their offices, Matt is busy cutting steaks and hacking at chickens with cleavers – which are the real reasons Matt loves being a griller: the cleaver and the giant knives – and the waitstaff hasn't arrived yet to get in his hair. Lil, the pastry chef, bustles around, interrupting Kris and Matt with spoonfuls of delicious things to taste or accusations that they're using up her special supply of ingredients. Megan flits in to grab the specials menu, and starts peppering Kris with questions about the dishes.

Then Simon emerges, buttoning his white jacket, and it's showtime. Kris loses himself in the rhythm of the kitchen, and mostly, he's able to forget about Katy's meddling and the prospect of dating random guys he's never met. Simon barks commands, Matt cracks jokes, Anoop checks orders, Lil gets flour in her hair, and Kris melts into the familiarity of it all.

It's comforting. It's Kris's home and he loves it.

____spacer____

  
Despite his best intentions, Kris loses focus during service. He still manages to think of the stupid ad while working the line, and every time Lil's timer goes off, he's reminded of his phone, undoubtedly filling up with voicemail.

Fortunately, the dinner service has to end at some point, and when the last satisfied customer finally leaves, everyone collapses in the dining room, rubbing their sore feet. Kris is tired and cranky since he was uncharacteristically distracted, which led to several careless errors, including burning his wrist on a pan.  
It's too much to ask that everyone hasn't noticed. The bartender, Randy, plunks a glass of something pinkish and undoubtedly alcoholic in front of Kris, and says, "Heard you had a bad night, man."

Kris sighs. If news carried out to the bar, that means _everyone_ has been talking about him. Great. "It's nothing," he says, sipping his drink. "Just a little tired. I didn't sleep well."

"Early morning phone calls are a bitch," Matt says conversationally, and Kris knows it's all over. He makes begging-eyes at Matt, but Matt pays no attention.

"Ooh, do I smell drama?" Lil asks, loudly enough that everyone gathers around.

"We should go start cleaning up," Kris says, making a move to stand up and save himself.

Lil clamps a hand on his shoulder. "The boys in the back aren't even done with dinner dishes," she says, referring to the dishwashers and bussers. "You know we have time."

"The girl's got a point. You might as well tell us," Megan says, grinning at Kris.

"I'll tell them," Matt says helpfully. "It seems that our little Kristina Aguilera has some suitors."

"Don't call me that," Kris says automatically, not that it helps. Matt will never stop inventing names for him and Kris knows it.

"Chill, you're ruining the story," Randy says, motioning for Matt to continue.

"Yes, well it seems as though some eligible bachelors got a hold of his telephone number and they're all determined to be the one to take him to the ball."

Megan giggles. "Bachelors? Not bachelorettes? This means Anoop owes me twenty bucks!"

Kris moans, putting his head down on the table. "Is Anoop the only one who didn't think…?" He can't even finish the thought. He just puts his head back down and lets Lil pet him.

"On the real, I think Anoop thinks so too," Matt says. "He just can't resist taking a bet. I think he's got a gambling problem."

Kris groans again, but no one leaves him alone to die. Jerks.

"So tell us what's up, baby," Lil encourages.

Tired and confused, Kris ends up pouring out the whole story, starting at the age of fourteen and working up to the present.

To their credit, Matt's the only one who laughs – which is to be expected – although he's not cruel about it. When Kris finishes, everyone looks strangely _happy_ , which is a weird reaction.

"This is kind of amazing," Megan finally says. "You realize we have to help you now. Go get your phone."

Kris shakes his head. "You guys are insane."

"Well, not all of us are happy about this, dawg," Randy says. "It's gonna take forever to listen to all those messages. But I think we can find some good dudes for ya."

"You know a lot of them will be creeps. We have to weed those out," Matt says in a very official voice.

Megan laughs. "You'll be vital in helping us identify the creeps, Matthew-san."

Kris can't even wrap his head around the idea that his co-workers want to help him date guys. New York City sure is a long way from Arkansas. Not willing to argue with them, though, he goes to get the phone and the Next Magazine.

When he gets back to the table, he calls voicemail and announces, "A hundred and six new messages."

Matt groans, but grabs the phone and presses speaker. Kris flees to the kitchen just as he hears someone say, "Hiiiiii! This is Hunter!" in a way-too-peppy voice.

He hears Megan yell, "Wait, don't you want to give us some guidelines?" but he just waves his hand as the door to the kitchen swings shut. He really doesn't want to think about it.

Anoop and Simon are arguing about the seafood distributor, which helps drown out the discussion in the dining room, and if either of them wonders why he's in there alone cleaning Matt's and Lil's stations, they don't ask. Kris is eternally grateful for the fact that Simon can turn even routine work into a production.

Kris hears snatches of conversation through the door every once in a while, when voices get raised. He hears Megan yelling something about not choosing anyone who uses the phrase "hit me up," and Matt lobbying for someone who wants to take Kris to a Rangers game.

After a while, Anoop and Simon emerge and Simon asks, "Where is everyone?"

Kris gestures towards the dining room. There's not really any sense in lying, as they'll find out from the others soon enough, so Kris says, "They're picking out three guys for me to try going on dates with."

Simon scowls. "That's hardly a good use of company time," he says, his clipped English accent making it sound like even more of a condemnation.

"Wait, you're dating dudes? Shit, I owe like eighty bucks to people," Anoop says, sounding dejected. "Good thing Simon owes me a hundred now."

"You bet too?" Kris asks Simon, incredulous.

Simon has the grace to color slightly. "That was supposed to be off the record," he says, eyeballing Anoop.

Kris wants to ask questions, but Simon clears his throat and heads for the dining room, probably to yell at everyone for not working. Then something occurs to Kris and he turns to Anoop. "Wait, eighty dollars? Matt said he bet fifty, and Megan twenty."

"Yeah, and one of the waiters bet ten."

" _Who_?" Kris asks, clenching his fists.

"That's privileged information. Bookie-better confidentiality."

Kris sighs and goes back to preparing the demi-glace for tomorrow. Anoop wanders toward the dining room, too, probably to try to collect from Simon. Kris really is having the most bizarre day, which only gets worse when he hears Simon shout, "Are you mad? That one? He can't even remember his own phone number on the first go!" and realizes that his boss has entered the decision-making process. For Kris's dates. With guys.

Kris puts down his knife in favor of banging his forehead against the cool metal of the walk-in freezer door.

____spacer____

  
Kris is nearly finished in the kitchen when Megan comes to get him. "We have the three," she says, in a deadly serious tone that makes it sound like something from a science fiction movie.

He dutifully follows her out to the table where everyone's congregated, even Simon. It's after two, and Kris thinks they all look surprisingly alert for the hour. Randy slides a paper across the table towards him. It contains three names and numbers. "Did you save their messages?" he asks.

"Nope," Matt tells him, far too cheerfully. "You're flying blind. But we all agreed. Well, at least the majority agreed."

"Well… Thanks, guys," Kris says, clutching the list.

"You owe us details. Many details," Megan says, giving him a leer.

Thankfully Simon clears his throat then and says, "Well, on that very disturbing note, I think it's time to finish up here."

Anoop, Randy, and Megan excuse themselves, and as they go, Kris says, "I'm going home, too. I did almost the whole kitchen while you were in here, so you can finish without me. This whole day has been…" He trails off, at a loss as to how to describe it.

"Of course, baby. We'll do the rest," Lil says, patting his arm.

"Yeah, you better rest up, Kristopher Columbus," Matt says as he gets up. "You're gonna need your strength to grab your ank – Hey!" he shouts as Lil elbows him hard in the side.

Simon rolls his eyes so hard Kris thinks it must hurt. "Kris, go home. The rest of you, into the kitchen. I don't pay you to sit out here gossiping all night," he barks, conveniently ignoring the fact that he's been doing the same thing. Of course, he does own the restaurant. Either way, Kris is glad for the subject change and the dismissal, and he throws Simon a grateful smile and goes to collect his things.

____spacer____

  
When Kris steps outside, Megan's waiting for him. She lives in the same area he does and they take the same train home, but usually she leaves several hours before he does, so they rarely get to ride together. She falls in step with him, but doesn't say anything.

He knows what she's doing. It's the same thing Katy used to do – being quiet until he can't resist filling the silence. And even though he knows the trick, after a few minutes, he still takes the bait.

"Katy says that I was straight because I'm lazy," he says. "Wait, that sounds wrong. She said I was dating her because I was lazy. And that she thinks that if she didn't do anything, I would have started dating another girl just out of habit."

"What do you think?" Megan asks, another tactic – turning it around on him.

"I don't know. I don't feel like I'm lazy."

She sighs. "Do you like guys?"

He blushes, not sure what to say. "Is it weird if I say I don't really know?" he asks. "I mean, I started dating Katy when I was fourteen. And I liked her for a whole year before that. She's the first person I really had feelings for. I guess I thought guys were attractive sometimes, but I thought other girls were attractive sometimes too. I didn't let myself think about either because I was with Katy and things were good. At least I thought they were."

"It sounds like an 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' scenario."

That's as apt a description as Kris has heard, so he says, "I guess so. She sort of… She was kind of in control, I guess. Not that I just went with what she said always, but…"

"She wore the pants?"

"No!" Kris says indignantly. "We both had pants! I mean… I guess I'm just more laid back than she is."

"And you figured if something was wrong, she'd tell you," Megan guesses.

"Right. And she never did until a few months ago when she just came up here out of the blue and started telling me that I didn't act like other guys and she thought I should date men and she just kind of threw it all on me, and I never thought about it like that before. I was busy, you know? In high school, I was in the orchestra, I played baseball, and I had an after-school job, not to mention homework… I was _busy_. And where I come from, guys don't talk a lot about stuff like that."

"And you had Katy," Megan says, taking the steps down to the subway platform two at a time so Kris has to hustle to keep up.

"Yeah. And then, after graduation, I moved here, and then I was even busier. I went to culinary school and worked in kitchens, bussing tables, anything I could get to break into the business. I busted my ass for a while there. I didn't even really make any friends here until I started working at Simon's."

"And you bust your ass there, too. We all know that. I guess I never really thought about it, but when _would_ you have a social life?" she asks, smirking at him.

"See?" he exclaims, exasperated. "Everyone acts like I ought to know these things. Maybe I should, but I pretty much go to work, go home, sleep, wake up and do it again. That's why it pisses me off that she says I'm lazy! I'm the opposite of lazy."

Megan looks at him, calculating. "She's partially right, though. You just put your energy into other stuff. You let her be a long-distance fiancée that you never seemed in any hurry to marry because it kept you from having to worry about that aspect of your life."

As Kris is still trying to decide whether she's right when the train pulls up and they get on. There are plenty of seats, so they sit down, Kris looking at his hands.

"Hey, listen," Megan says, putting her hand on Kris's arm. "You can be straight or gay or bi or asexual. Whatever you want, we're still gonna be your friends, okay?"

"I know," Kris says, smiling despite himself.

"One question, though, and then I'll drop the subject. Do you ever think about guys when you.. you know?" she asks, making a gesture that causes Kris to frantically slap her hands down into her lap.

"Megan!" he squeaks, looking around to see if anyone's watching them. He can feel how hot his face is, and he knows she can probably ascertain the answer. He'll be damned if he's going to talk to Megan about his masturbatory habits, though.

"Well, then what have you got to lose?" she asks, quiet and serious. "Don't do this for her or us. Do it for you."

When it's put that way, it actually makes sense. He _does_ kind of want to see what it would be like to kiss a guy. And maybe more. Katy's meddling has given him the perfect opportunity to try it out without having to do any of the things he finds so uncomfortable – going to bars, flirting, _dancing_. This could actually be a good thing.

He turns to Megan and grins. "You're kinda brilliant, you know."

"I know," she says, smiling back.

"Don't get too smug. I heard you're going out with Matt this weekend. That's not very smart."

The train lumbers to a stop and Kris stands up. Megan follows, flicking him in the arm. "Oh hush, Krysanthemum. There's a lot you don't know about Matt, apparently," she says, giving him a saucy smile that makes him not want to ask.

He settles for rolling his eyes and saying, "Don't you start with the name thing too now."

"Yeah, yeah. You love it."

Kris flicks her back, but he doesn't argue. He's feeling pretty mellow. Like for once, he's making his own decisions.

____spacer____

  
Kris's hours at the restaurant don't really allow him to call his potential dates at any kind of "cool" time. He's not sure when a good time to call is, but he's pretty sure noon isn't cool. However, he doesn't have much choice. So, the following day at lunchtime, he dials the first number on his list with shaking hands.

"Hello?"

Kris breathes out. He can do this. "Hi, is this Ryan?"

"Yes, who's calling?" The voice sounds pleasant and cheerful, like a normal guy. He's not sure what he was expecting, but normal is good.

"Hey, this is Kris Allen. I'm uh… The guy with the ad in Next? That my fiancée placed? Ex-fiancée, I mean. And you called? And I… Uh… I got your message?" Realizing he sounds completely idiotic, Kris stops talking.

Fortunately, Ryan is somewhat better at this than Kris is, so he just says, "Oh, yeah! I'm glad you called back. That ad was something else."

Kris laughs. "You're telling me! Imagine how I felt when I found out about it!"

"She didn't tell you? You just had random guys calling?"

"Yeah, I didn't figure it out until I had fifty messages!"

Ryan laughs at that, and Kris takes a deep breath. This isn't going terribly at all. "So, are you calling everyone back?" Ryan asks.

"Oh, no. Definitely not. My, uh… Well, this is kind of embarrassing, but my friends picked you out. I mean… My friends. Where I work? They listened to all the messages and they put you as someone they thought I'd… uh… like." Kris is bright red at this point and very glad no one can see him.

Luckily Ryan laughs again and says, "That's cool! You must have some good friends. And I'm glad you called. Your ad sounded really nice."

"Thanks," Kris says, blushing harder.

"So… Do you want to go out, then?" Ryan asks.

"Oh, jeez, I probably should have asked you. I'm bad at this."

"Well, according to the ad, you're pretty new to the whole asking-guys-out thing. Is that a yes, by the way?"

"Sorry! Yes. Definitely. I… I actually work most nights, so…" Kris realizes he didn't think that part through. Simon's been pretty cool about this whole thing, but asking for a night off to go on a date is probably out of line.

"Actually, I work nights, too. I'm a radio DJ. Would you maybe like to have lunch?"

"That would be cool. Um… is tomorrow good? Or is that too soon, I don't…?"

Ryan laughs again, but not in a laughing-at-him way, thankfully. "I'm free tomorrow. That would be great. How about Craftbar? Have you been there?"

Kris has heard good things about the head chef there, and his estimation of Ryan immediately goes up at the suggestion. By the time they hammer out the details and say goodbye, Kris is feeling better about the whole thing. Ryan seems like a nice guy, and it wouldn't kill Kris to be more social. Or so everyone's always telling him.

____spacer____

  
Kris has been in the restaurant for all of five minutes when Matt attacks him. "Kris Kringle! What it do?"

"Don't… Oh, whatever. What do you want?"

Matt puts his hand over his heart, fake-wounded. "Can't I just check on my favorite cash cow? I got Ulysses Grant in my pocket thanks to your new hankering for dick."

Kris opens his mouth to protest, but then he sighs and ignores Matt's comment. He knows by now that it won't do any good. He goes over to the notice board and sees _duck a l'orange_ on the list. "Hey, you better start boning some ducks," he says to Matt, trying to change the subject.

"Speaking of boning, did you call your Prince Charmingses yet?"

Kris turns into the walk-in fridge to grab some oranges and also to hide his blush. "I have a lunch date tomorrow. But no one's boning anything. Except ducks."

Matt huffs. "Do I need to make another bet with Noop about how long it takes you to put out?"

"Please don't," Kris says, although he can already see Matt's wheels turning.

Before he can protest further, though, Lil walks in and says, "What's going on with my boys?"

"Kris has a date tomorrow, but he's not going to break the dude off a piece. Ten bucks says he's a virgin."

"I'm not playing that game with you, Matthew! You oughtta be ashamed! And there's nothing wrong with being a virgin."

"Hello!" Kris shouts. "Standing right here! And not a virgin!"

"Aw, you just ruined the bet," Matt complains. "Wait, maybe I can still get Noop."

He hurries off and Kris looks at Lil with pleading eyes. "Can't you do something about him?"

"Sorry, baby. Short a' killing him, I don't think I can help you on this one. You have fun on your date, though. You should at least give the boy a kiss! I bet that you would." She winks at him as she walks off and Kris doesn't have the heart to ask if his suspicions that there's already a restaurant-wide pool going are true.

____spacer____

  
Kris gets to Craftbar right on time and looks around for a few minutes before he realizes that he has no idea what his date looks like. He tells the hostess he's meeting a man named Ryan, feeling a little exposed and unsure until he realizes there's no way the hostess can know whether he's on a _date_ or not. He knows he's making things unnecessarily complicated and he tries to breathe deeply and relax so he doesn't make an ass of himself.

The hostess escorts him to a table where a perfectly normal looking, and actually pretty attractive, guy is sitting. He's a little bit plastic, in that California Ken doll way, but he's got nice eyes that crinkle in the corners when he smiles at Kris.

"Kris! Hi, nice to meet you," he says, extending his hand. His handshake is warm and easy, and Kris smiles back.

Despite Kris's unease, everything progresses without awkwardness. Ryan doesn't try to pull out his chair when they sit down, and he doesn't order a bottle of wine or anything. Kris had been slightly worried about the notion of two men on a date together, because who does the "man stuff," anyway?

But Ryan drinks Diet Coke and orders a corned beef sandwich and talks to Kris like any other person doing the getting-to-know-you thing. They talk about the radio station where Ryan works, and how he does the "drive time" shift, which sucks for dating. They talk about Simon's and how Kris works dinner, which also sucks for dating – not that he's done any lately, but he commiserates anyway.

They exchange stories about the people they work with, and where they grew up. They enjoy their food and Kris talks way too much about how it was prepared – occupational hazard. They do all the basic first-date stuff that Kris has only really seen in movies because his first date with Katy consisted of Kris's mom dropping them off at the mall and picking them up again an hour later. And they'd already known each other's families and friends.

The realization hits him with such force that he actually says aloud, "This is actually my first 'first date' if you can believe it."

"With a man, you mean?" Ryan asks, lowering his voice a little.

"No, with anyone. I started dating my ex-girlfriend, the one who placed the ad, when I was a freshman in high school. We didn't even go on real _dates_ like this until we'd been going out for years. And I haven't dated anyone since she broke up with me. So I've really never done this. Like, at all."

He feels like a complete loser spilling that all out like that, but Ryan looks strangely sympathetic. "No wonder you're confused right now."

Kris smiles gratefully. "I guess. Everyone's making me feel like I should have figured out all of this years ago, and I'm glad it's at least sort of understandable why I didn't."

Not that Kris has much basis for comparison, but it's actually a really nice date. They split the bill and walk outside. Ryan proposes sharing a cab, but they discover they're going in opposite directions, so they stand on the sidewalk for a minute, Kris shuffling his feet nervously.

"Well, I had a really nice time, Kris," Ryan says, breaking the tense moment.

"Me too."

"I don't know if it counts as a goodnight kiss if it's the afternoon, but I'd like to…"

Ryan trails off, letting Kris decide, which is nice. It's a busy street and there are people everywhere, but the huge crowd actually gives him a secure sense of anonymity. Plus he promised to try, so he nods.

They both lean in and Kris manages to tilt the right way and not headbutt Ryan or anything foolish like that. The kiss is brief and dry, but then Ryan moves a little, pressing closer and sliding a hand up to Kris's neck. Then they're kissing for real and it's good. Actually, really good. But just as Kris is coming to the conclusion of 'good,' Ryan's moving away and it's over.

Which is probably good because it's the middle of the sidewalk in broad daylight and anything more verges on sleazy.

"Well, this was a lot of fun. Can I call you? I'm always free for lunch," Ryan says, smiling.

Kris nods. "Definitely. I'm also always free for lunch."

They say goodbye and go their separate ways. Kris doesn't necessarily feel converted or anything, but he feels good. Accomplished. And he definitely wouldn't mind seeing Ryan again. And kissing him again.

His cheeks get a little hot at the thought, but he smiles to himself. He still has two more dates. He needs to pace himself. But he's a little bit giddy and a little bit turned on and he hasn't felt this way since… Maybe ever. He's not looking forward to admitting that to his friends, though.

____spacer____

  
"I don't know!" Kris protests, backing away from the advancing horde. "I liked him! He was nice! But it wasn't like… love at first sight or anything! Jeez!"

The entire Simon's staff has him cornered in the kitchen and they all want _way_ too many details about his date.

"Just use baseball terms," Matt suggests. "First base? Second base? Bunt?"

"What the hell's a bunt?" Anoop asks. Then he shakes his head. "Wait, I don't want to know."

"So he's not The One?" Megan says sadly. "Wait, which one did you call first?"

"I called the first one on the list." Kris tells her. "Was that wrong?"

"Never mind, I want to know if there was a pop fly."

"Matt! I don't know _what_ you're talking about, but that sounds nasty," Lil admonishes.

"All of you shut up!" Kris shouts. "His name is Ryan and he's a DJ at a radio station and he's cute and I kissed him, but then I went home and nothing else happened. That's it!"

He takes a breath, hoping that will satisfy everyone, but then Megan asks, "Was there tongue?" and Kris loses all hope for an easy exit.

"No! It was on the sidewalk outside the restaurant in the middle of the afternoon!"

"You kissed him right on the sidewalk in broad daylight where anyone could see? That's hella gay, man," Matt says, smirking evilly.

"You have your money. Stop trying to gauge my gay. You didn't bet by degrees."

Matt almost looks a little sheepish at that, and Kris is opening his mouth to voice his suspicions about a betting pool when Simon appears from behind them. "Is this what I'm paying you for?"

"You pay us because we're the only ones who'll put up with your attitude," Matt mutters, but Simon either doesn't hear or doesn't acknowledge it.

"You heard the man. Work," Lil says, shooing them away with her hands, for which Kris is very thankful. "We got Beef Wellington tonight, so we gotta be a well-oiled machine, boys. Now, I'm gonna go get my pastry ready, and Matt, you better have the beef trimmed."

In the face of an efficient Lil, even Matt can't argue, so everyone scatters to their stations and stops talking about Kris's love life – or lack thereof.

____spacer____

  
Kris wants to wait a few days until he calls the next name on the list, but he knows that his friends won't stop harassing him until he sets up his second date. The paper with the names on it is a little scrunched now, and he smoothes it nervously as he picks up his phone.

"Hello?"

He hadn't been expecting an answer so quickly. It was a Saturday afternoon, after all. He'd thought maybe he'd get voicemail, but no.

"Um, hi. Is this David?" Kris stammers, trying to sound like less of an idiot than the last time he did this.

"Yup. Who's calling?"

"This is Kris, the guy with the personal ad in _Next_?"

"Oh, hey," David says, his voice slipping an octave down into something altogether more sultry, which makes Kris's hand slip a little on the phone. "I didn't think you'd call. I figured you'd kill your ex and end up on the news or something."

Kris laughs. "Don't think I didn't want to."

"Well, I'm glad you called." David's voice is warm and pleasant, tinged with humor throughout their entire conversation about the saga of the personal ad, the restaurant, and the hundred voicemails.

"So, um... Would you like to go out?" Kris manages once the conversation lulls. He'd been determined to do the asking this time, like an actual man, and he's pleased that he accomplished it.

"Yeah, definitely. Hey do you want to come out to this club tonight? My band is playing. You could check out the set and then we could have drinks after."

"You're in a band?" Kris asks, intrigued. Then reality intrudes. "I wish I could come, but I can't get out of work until like midnight, though."

"That's fine. We don't usually go on until late when we play at Infinite. You could probably catch the end of the set and then we could hang out."

They hash out the details and say goodbye. Kris hurries to get ready for work, excited for his date despite the fact that he's usually wrecked after a shift and wants nothing more than to go home and go to bed. He's _dating_ now, which means he has to make concessions to his comfort.

____spacer____

  
When he gets into the restaurant, Lil is waiting to pounce. "Did you call?"

"Why are you here already?"

"Trying out a new recipe. Now don't change the subject, boy. I have children at home, and I know all about trying to wiggle out of a question you don't want to answer. Talk!"

Kris sighs. "Fine, his name is David and he's in a band, and I'm meeting him after work tonight to see his band play and have a drink. And before you ask, I have no earthly idea if I'm going to kiss him."

"Cool, a band!" Matt says, appearing from nowhere to lurk behind Lil and grin like an ass. "What kind? Polka? Thrash? Kiss cover band?"

That gives Kris pause. "I didn't think to ask," he admits.

Matt hoots and leans over to poke Kris in the ribs. "Word up! Going for the mystery! I dig it, I dig it. I hope for your sake, though, that it's not one of those things where a dude beats on a garbage can for an hour while another dude talks about the economy. I went to one of those jawns in a buddy's loft the other week, and that shit _blew_."

"He didn't sound like he talks about the economy," Kris says, which makes both Matt and Lil catcall at him.

"Krispin Glover has a crush!" Matt taunts.

"No one even remembers who Crispin Glover is anymore," Kris says irritably, pushing past them toward the break room. Sometimes he genuinely loathes Matt.

Unfortunately, Matt doesn't pick up on the loathing and follows Kris. "Listen, dude. I'm not trying to fuck with you. This is just the most excitement this place has seen since Simon drilled that ceramic knife dealer over his desk and Anoop walked in on them."

"Her knives were pretty awesome," Kris says.

"Right? Her tits, too. But I'm just saying, we live in this restaurant. We all got families and friends and stuff, but this is everything right here." He makes a gesture encompassing the two of them and the whole of Simon's. "And we want you to be happy because we care about you. No homo."

Kris rolls his eyes. "It's a little insensitive to say 'no homo' to a guy who's dating men, but I appreciate the sentiment. I guess."

"No offense intended. Now get out here because if you don't chop onions, I'ma have to do it, and you know it makes me cry like a little bitch."

So maybe he doesn't loathe Matt. But still. This whole thing is playing havoc with his happy little life.

Although he considers as he chops onions that perhaps he could use a little havoc. He's actually doing things besides working and sleeping lately, and it's been years since that happened. It's sort of cool.

____spacer____

  
"Wait, lemme get this straight," Megan begins.

"No pun intended," Matt says, interrupting her.

"Get out of here. Anyway, you're going on a date with a guy in a band, who sounds like he's cool and doesn't play polka, and you're going to wear _that_?" Megan asks, putting her hands on her hips and regarding Kris's t-shirt and jeans with disdain.

"Yes?"

"Get the fuck out of here, you are not. Matt, take off that shirt," Megan orders.

"Hot damn! If I'd known you wanted people to watch while I do my thang, I'd have set that up long before now."

"Get bent," Megan says. "Take it off."

"I don't want to wear his shirt!" Kris protests. "It's probably all sweaty and meaty."

"Yeah, I bet that's just how you like it," Matt retorts.

"Boys! Don't make me get ugly."

"Fair Megan, you could never be ugly. Although Kristian Bale here is another story."

"Just let me get out of here without eyeliner, please," Kris begs, shrugging off Megan's makeover attempts. It's not as if he's dressed like a scrub or anything. He'd stuffed a clean t-shirt into his messenger bag before he'd left for work.

"Fine. But if you get laid tonight, I want details. Measure his cock," Megan requests.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to do that," Kris says, trying for sarcastic, but he's pretty sure his blush ruins it.

He escapes before they can tease him any more, and heads for the nearest train. It's only a few stops to the club, and when he gets there, he can hear the music from the street. It's hard, pounding rock and roll that Kris can feel coming up through the street.

Flashing his ID to the bouncer, Kris goes in and hits a wall of flesh. He edges over to the side where he can actually see the band. David had said he was the lead singer, and Kris's eyes find him immediately. He's... wow. _Really_ good-looking. His hair is reddish brown and falling into one eye as he tosses his head, playing the guitar with an easy confidence that Kris admires instantly. David's eyes are shadowed with some kind of make-up, and the way he stares into the crowd through his lashes with his mouth on the microphone like he's trying to taste it _does things_ to Kris.

Ryan had been sweet and pleasant and Kris had enjoyed kissing him, but seeing David on the stage, black shirt unbuttoned to his breastbone and tight jeans hugging his hips, Kris suddenly thinks he might be ready for a little bit more than kissing. It's a frightening thought, and he has a momentary urge to run for the door, go home, get in bed, and pull the covers over his head.

But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead, he lurks at the back of the crowd, tapping his foot to the music and nursing a beer.

When David yells, "Thank you, New York City! You've been amazing!" someone starts a chant for an encore. David smirks and looks at the other band members. There's a brief nonverbal conversation, and then David leans forward and puts his mouth on the mic again. His hands fall from his guitar and he begins to sing a cappella, devastatingly slowly.

"Day after day. I will walk, and I will play. But the day after today. I will stop, and I will start..." His voice is harsh and husky, like it's hard to get the word out.

Kris stares, transfixed. The band jumps in and David's hands are back on his guitar, stroking out a simple, driving rhythm. Kris inches closer to the stage, wending his way around tables as goes. He watches, his knees a little wobbly, as the song escalates from "Why can't I get just one kiss?" to "Why can't I get just one fuck?" and suddenly they make eye contact. David doesn't skip a beat, but his smirk turns a little scary.

There's an empty chair available and Kris sinks into it as David continues to sing, staring Kris down with every line. When David sings, "I'd love to love you lover," he turns it into an invitation, and Kris can hardly believe it, but he's gone from 'unsure as to whether or not he could have sex with a guy' to 'desperate to have sex with a guy' in a matter of minutes. And they haven't even spoken. It's lust like he's never been hit with before, and part of him wants to get up and go, but David's ending the song with an amazing guitar solo and it would just be terrible manners to leave now.

When the last notes fade away, David turns and says something to the bass player, handing off his guitar. Then he heads for Kris, barely acknowledging the back-slapping and adoration of the other audience members.

He stops in front of Kris and says, "I'm David Cook."

"I know," Kris says. "I'm Kris Allen. I called you earlier, and – "

"Thank Christ," David interrupts. "If you hadn't been, I was gonna have to ditch my date for you."

The knowledge that David hadn't just been flirt-singing with him for effect or something hits him down low and he shivers a little. "So do you want to get that drink, or..."

"There's a backroom," David says, and Kris nods without even really pondering the implications of saying yes to that.

He can't take it back, though, because David's got him by the wrist and is dragging him into a small room that looks more like a storage area than anything else. David turns him and pushes him until his shoulder blades hit the wall. "Wait," he says, pausing with his lips only inches from Kris's. "You've never been with a guy, right?"

"Well, I've kissed –"

"Good enough," David says, interrupting again. Kris hadn't suspected he'd be into intense guys, but he can't give it much thought because David's lips close over Kris's with no preliminary pecks or nibbles. He tilts Kris's head with one hand, perfecting the angle, and then he's just _devouring_ Kris's mouth, and Kris is trying to give back as good as he's getting.

David slides a leg in between Kris's, and it's all Kris can do not to grind against it. But then David moves his mouth down to Kris's neck, and Kris forgets all about being careful. He sinks against David, riding his leg in a completely shameless manner.

"Oh fuck yeah," David whispers against his neck, his speaking voice mirroring the gravelly rasp he'd used on stage.

"Yeah," Kris says back, not sure what to say beyond that, but it's enough.

Then David pushes a hand in between their bodies, pressing hard on Kris's erection, and just like that, it's all over. He shudders and gasps against David's shoulder, coming in his pants for the first time in his life.

He holds on tight, riding out the aftershocks as David rubs off against Kris's hipbone, coming with a grunt and a sigh.

"Wow, that was..." Kris trails off, unable to think of an adjective suitable.

"Intense," David supplies. "Yeah, shit. Hey do you want to come over to my place? You could get cleaned up there."

Kris think it over, he really does, but considering the fact that he's known David for all of twenty minutes and he's already ejaculated, he declines. Chickens out, really.

"I think I better go back to my place. I'm gonna need clean clothes, and..."

David holds up his hands. "Say no more. That's probably enough for one night for a newbie, right?" He says it with a charming smile, so Kris can't even be offended at being referred to as a newbie. It's not wholly inaccurate anyway.

"Like you said, intense," Kris says. "But I'd like to see you again."

David grins and says, "You have my number."

They say their goodbyes – and kiss a couple more times – and Kris slinks out of the back room, trying not to look like he just got dry-humped against a wall. Unfortunately, there are still a bunch of people milling around, including all of David's band, and everyone stares at him with varying degrees of smirkiness.

Kris sighs and does the walk of shame with his head ducked low. He pushes out of the club and onto the street, taking in great gulps of air. He checks the front of his pants to make sure no one will be able to tell what happened, and thanks the lord that he wore dark jeans.

He wishes he could go directly to sleep, because he feels totally wrecked, but unfortunately he's got a subway ride ahead of him that's going to afford him time to actually _think_ about what just happened.

With a sigh, he goes to catch his train and have an existential crisis.

____spacer____

  
Sunday is his day off, so he's able to quietly and calmly freak out at home alone. Megan calls twice and Matt once, but Kris ignores the calls. By late afternoon, he's no longer freaked out and is instead inordinately pleased with himself.

He's not looking forward to Katy's smug satisfaction, but he has to admit she was right. He'd never felt anything even approaching that kind of maddening lust with her.

Megan had told him that it would be all right no matter what team he decided to play for, but after last night, Kris is leaning toward Legitimately Gay. He's had actual sex with a girl in many places and positions, and there isn't one single time that can compare to his backroom _thing_ last night. And they didn't even remove any clothing!

If that was what it was like to just... do that, then he can't even _imagine_ what it would be like to have actual sex.

That's what he thinks about that night as he jerks off before bed. He grabs the bottle of lube that's in his nightstand drawer and dribbles some over his fingers, reaching down between his legs to rub his hole. Katy had touched him there a few times, but it had just felt awkward. However, thinking about David doing it, or maybe Ryan, or even Brad Pitt – he can't help some mental experimenting – is something altogether different.

He arches up off the bed, working first one finger in and then two, stroking his dick hard and fast with his other hand. It's hard to get the angle right, but when he comes, he sees stars, clenching around his own fingers so hard that they feel a little numb when he pulls them out.

It's really not going to be fun hearing the I-told-you-so's, but he thinks to himself as he washes the lube off his hands that he's got a few other things to look forward to that are going to more than make up for it.

____spacer____

  
When he gets to work on Monday, Megan attacks him. "Why didn't you answer my calls, you ass? It better be because you were screwing all weekend."

"What are you doing here so early?" Kris asks, dodging her question.

"I was fucking Anoop in the walk-in freezer. He likes it for some reason. Now spill."

Kris gapes at her for a moment. "The walk-in freezer?"

"Kristopher, _focus_!"

Before he can stammer out any kind of response, Matt comes in the front door. "Kristie Brinkley! I tried to call you. I hope you were out gettin' yours, playa."

Kris doesn't know which thing to object to first, but he doesn't have time to get a word in before Matt's helping Megan corner him. "Spill," Megan says again, and Kris swallows, not sure how to proceed.

"Well, I went to see his band, right? They're really good, by the way. And I only stayed for a little while after they were done and then I went home."

Matt cocks an eyebrow. "That better not be the end of it."

Kris sighs. "Well... We kinda... madeoutinthebackroom."

" _What_?" Matt and Megan ask at the same time, advancing another step, trapping Kris between the bar and the wall.

"Fine! So he was singing this song and it was kind of... suggestive? And he saw me in the crowd and we kinda made eye contact for a while. And then after, I told him who I was and he took me in the back and we made out."

"What the hell kind of eye contact was it that he had to drag you off as soon as the show was over?" Megan demands.

Kris shuffles his feet nervously, wondering if he could make a run for the kitchen. "We... We definitely had some chemistry, okay? But that's all I'm saying."

"Dude, you're holding out on us!" Matt says, pushing in another step.

Kris starts to panic a little. In a last-ditch effort to save himself, he says, "Hey Matt, did you know Megan fucked Anoop in the walk-in freezer this morning?"

"Kris!" Megan shouts, her face turning red.

"Damn, girl," Matt says, looking torn between hurt and amusement.

Kris takes advantage of their distraction and breaks for the swinging doors to the kitchen. He hears Megan say, "We're not exclusive, Matthew! I'm an independent woman!" as the doors swing closed behind him.

He immediately screeches to a halt, almost running into Anoop who's just on the other side of the door. "Nice one," Anoop says drily.

"Are you just lurking here to get info for more bets or something?" Kris asks snottily.

"Just keeping an eye on my girl," he says with a fond look.

"You don't mind that she's seeing both of you?"

Anoop rolls his eyes. "You're the last one who should be throwing stones, little man. Figure out what the hell _you're_ doing first, and then maybe you can dole out the advice." He pats Kris on the shoulder and heads back into his office.

Kris sighs, admitting defeat on pretty much all fronts, and checks the menu. He's going to have to go into the freezer eventually. Best to get it over with.

The next day, Kris kind of wants to call David again and see what he's doing, but he sort of suspects that would come off like a booty call after the previous night. He also considers calling Ryan to test his newfound dry-humping skills, but that also seems forward.

He settles for calling the last guy on his list. He'd made a promise, after all, and he's the kind of guy who keeps promises. His first two dates have been pretty great, and he's developed at least a little faith in his coworkers' ability to pick out men for him.

Kris finds that he's hardly nervous at all this time. Perhaps he's getting used to the whole calling-guys thing. It rings several times and Kris is sure it's going to go to voicemail. However, on the fifth ring, someone answers the phone, clearly awakened from sleep. "Hello?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, did I wake you up?" Kris asks, fretting. It's after noon, but long nights at Simon's have made him sympathetic to people who work odd hours.

"Yeah, but it's okay. I overslept anyway. Who is this?"

"Jeez, sorry," Kris says, mentally slapping his forehead. "Is this Adam? My name's Kris. You left me a message about my personal ad in _Next_?"

"Ahhh, yes. The straight boy," Adam says, sounding amused.

"Not straight," Kris corrects.

"You already got someone to turn you? And you're still calling me? Someone's greedy."

Kris grins. "I didn't really need turning. My ex is just melodramatic."

"Ah, a melodramatic ex. I have one of those, too. Pain in the ass, right? He's actually the one who made me call. Not that I didn't want to. Adorable southern boys are my one weakness in life. But I'm not really the kind of guy who answers personal ads."

"I'm not the kind of guy who places them, so I think we're even," Kris says, blushing a little at the 'adorable' part. "And I didn't really need turning, but I do want to get out and meet people."

"Well, I can't say no to that. You don't sound like you're going to axe-murder me, so I think I can spare some time. I'm performing tonight, but if you'd like, I can get you tickets."

"Performing? In what?" Kris asks, hoping the guy's not a porn star. Or a mime.

"I'm Fiyero in _Wicked_ ," Adam tells him. "That's why I was sleeping when you called. I usually get in late."

"Oh, cool!" Kris says, even though he knows very little about the musical. It's a Broadway play, though, which is a big deal. He knows that much. "I work in a restaurant, so I know all about late nights. In fact, I have to work tonight, so I probably can't come. I could try to sneak out early, though."

"You work in a restaurant? I waited tables for ages before I got a break, so I know all about that grind," Adam says.

"Oh, I don't wait tables. I'm a chef. Sous-chef now, but I'm hoping to be head chef of my own place someday." Kris isn't sure why he says it. He always tells people it would be too much work and that he's just happy to cook without total responsibility, but something about Adam makes Kris want to impress him.

"A chef?" Adam says, sounding delighted. "Maybe you can second act it, and then make me something delicious after. I never have anyone to cook for me. Wait, is that presumptuous? Everyone tells me I have boundary issues. You probably don't want to do that after you've been doing it all day at work."

Kris laughs, delighted. Katy had never been that interested in his cooking. She always told him that four scallops on a plate covered with swirly things wasn't dinner. Kris used to resent her for that, but he's coming to realize that maybe if he'd given her something, she would have given something back. They were just bad for each other. Mostly on account of Kris's total gayness. "Actually, that would be really cool. I never have anyone to cook _for_. I mean, in a restaurant, you don't get to see people enjoy things. You get feedback from the waitstaff sometimes, but you don't really see the pleasure people get from eating your food."

"That sounds really wonderful, Kris," Adam says, his voice a touch more sensual than before. "I'll leave you a ticket at the booth."

"I'm looking forward to it," Kris says, really meaning it.

"Me too."

They say their goodbyes and Kris hangs up, feeling strangely giddy. He picks his clothes with as much care as he can, considering his closet is full of jeans, t-shirts, and flannel. Not really anything appropriate for the theater.

He checks the time and sucks in a deep breath. Something tells him it's a bad idea, but he still picks up the phone again and scrolls through his contacts until he gets to Megan's name and presses the call button.

"Hey, Meg, it's Kris. Feel like taking me shopping?"

____spacer____

  
"So this one's special?" Megan asks him as they walk into a boutique.

"Adam? Special? I don't know, I just talked to him for five minutes. I don't have anything I can wear to a Broadway play is all. I don't want to look like a tourist."

"Fine, fine. What play's he in?"

" _Wicked_ ," Kris says, watching nervously as Megan flips through a rack of pants that all look way too shiny for his taste. "He's... Figaro, maybe? Something like that."

"Fiyero?"

"Yeah, Fiyero. Have you seen the play?"

"Wait, wait." Megan turns away from the pants – thankfully – and points a finger at Kris. "His name is Adam?" At Kris's nod, her mouth drops open a little. "Adam _Lambert_?"

"I don't know his last name, actually. I didn't ask."

"I can _not_ believe you're going out with _Adam Lambert_. He's been nominated for a Tony for Christ's sake!" Megan spins toward the door. "This is unbelievable. We need something better than this crap. Come on." She drags him toward the door, ignoring the glaring salesperson who clearly doesn't like her merchandise dismissed as 'crap.'

"A Tony?" Kris asks, struggling to keep up with her. "Like a real Tony?"

"No, Tony Danza. Fuck, Kris, this guy is a star with a capital S! What's he doing calling guys from personal ads? I bet he could get anyone he wants! He's mega-hot, you know."

"He said his ex-boyfriend made him call because adorable southern boys are his weakness," Kris says, distracted by the fact that his date is apparently hot and famous and could have anyone he wanted. Why the hell would he want a boring, socially awkward sous-chef from Arkansas? "Maybe I should just cancel," he says, pulling at Megan's hand.

"Cancel? Are you insane?" Megan drags him into a store that looks remarkably similar to the last one, only the wares are decidedly less shiny. "His weakness is adorable southern boys. This is perfect! He's going to love you. We just need to get you in some pants that show your ass."

"But I'm not..."

"Adorable? Possessing of a great ass? Yes you are. Fuck you and your low self-esteem," Megan says, loudly enough that an older woman glares at her for swearing. "You're probably the most adorable guy I've ever met. And charming. And sweet, and hot, and just about perfect, except for the part about being sort of an idiot. If you weren't a total 'mo, I'd be doing you myself. So shut up and let me dress you. You're going to meet Adam Lambert and he's going to fall crazy in love with you, and you two are going to be my hot, famous gay friends, and my life will be perfect."

Kris sighs, unable to argue in the face of Megan's insistence. He still doesn't know what he could possibly have to offer a Broadway star other than some really good recipes, but he's already committed to the date. He can't really back out now. His mama raised him better than that.

"Not leather," he says, ignoring Megan's hopeful eyes. "If you want to hang out with me and my famous boyfriend, you'll be careful," he jokes.

"I don't like the term 'boyfriend.' How about _lover_?" she suggests, holding a pair of black pants up to Kris, testing the length.

"Let's see if he likes me first."

Megan makes an unladylike snort and hands him a sweater. "Go, try on. I'm coming in there in two minutes, so have your junk covered. Unless you're not modest." She says the last bit with a touch of hope and Kris sighs.

He goes into the dressing room and tries on the black pants and the pale gray lightweight sweater that Megan had selected for him. Both items are much tighter than the rest of his clothes. He pulls the sweater off again and checks the tag. Small? No wonder. He slides it back over his head and opens the door. "Meg, I usually wear, like, a large."

"And that's your problem right there. Come out here and let me see... Hot _Christ_."

"Hot Christ?"

"Shut up! Look in that mirror and tell me you don't have trouble forming words!"

Kris looks, but he honestly doesn't see the big deal. The sweater looks silly, molding to every curve of his torso. And the pants cling to his thighs and butt in a way that strikes him as almost too... feminine, or something. He's pretty proud of his physique – although he's been slacking at the gym lately on account of all of his dating – but he usually associates tight clothes with douchebags, and Adam seems really nice, so he wants to make a non-douchebaggy impression.

"Listen, you're going to wear that, _and_ you're going to let me pick out shoes for you, and I'll tell you why. I got Matt and Anoop to agree to cover you, so you can get out of the restaurant as soon as the initial rush is over. That way, you can see the second half of the play."

"They better not hurt my feet," Kris says, but he's pretty touched. "Thanks, Megan."

"Yeah, you better thank me. You do _not_ want to know what I promised them to get them to do it," she says.

Kris shudders. "I'll do whatever you say, as long as you swear to never tell me."

____spacer____

  
Kris debates leaving the restaurant and going home to get changed before the play, but he doesn't want to waste any more time. Unfortunately, that choice means that he has to listen to the whoops and catcalls when he emerges from the break room in his new way-too-tight pants and way-too-tight sweater. "Megan dressed me!" he calls as he flees the kitchen in abject terror, Matt's jeers fading out behind him.

He hits the street at a run and skitters to a halt when he realizes people are staring at him, probably thinking he's a well-dressed robber. He pats himself down and hails a cab, unwilling to wait for the train.

When he gets to the theater, people are milling around outside, smoking and chatting. Kris hurries to get his ticket and find his seat before intermission ends. It's a good seat, tenth row but far over to the left side, and he sinks into the plush fabric, waiting for his first glimpse of Adam.

When the lights go out and the curtain rises, Kris is transfixed. Adam is... commanding. Every single line he delivers has everyone straining forward, hanging on his every word. And when he _sings_ , well... Kris is starting to think that maybe it's not men, but _singers_ who get his blood boiling, because Adam's making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and giving him goosebumps that run from his wrists up over his shoulders and down to the small of his back. He's never heard anyone who can sing like Adam.

Kris has never been a big Wizard of Oz person, but he finds himself immersed in the story, and at the end when Adam – now a scarecrow – goes off with the Wicked Witch, Kris is on his feet with everyone else, clapping so hard that his hands hurt.

As the curtain closes, Kris realizes he has no idea where to go to find Adam. He wanders outside and sees some people hurrying past with autograph books. He follows them around the building to the stage door. He stands there for a while, listening to the people talking excitedly. They seem to all be saying the same thing - _Adam_. Kris is getting more and more nervous, and he's just starting to panic for real when the door opens and a deafening roar sweeps through the crowd.

Up close, Adam is even more gorgeous than Kris would have guessed, and his face radiates pure joy. He's got the happiest face Kris has even seen, and Kris realizes that he's grinning too, for no reason at all.

When Adam approaches Kris's area, Kris sticks out his hand. "Hey, I'm Kris. Your date."

Several of the girls pressed close to Kris stop chattering and stare, open-mouthed, waiting to see what will happen. Adam looks him up and down and says, "Oh, _perfect_ ," with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, come over here, then," Adam tells him, and pulls him until he ducks under the barricade to stand at Adam's side.

The camera flashes are practically blinding, and he tries not to look too terrified as he shuffles along next to Adam while Adam signs the last few playbills. When he reaches the end of the line, he slings an arm around Kris's shoulders and tucks him in close while he waves to the fans and then steers Kris into a waiting limousine – a limousine!

It's all more than Kris had bargained for, but Adam is _gorgeous_ up close, even with his thick stage make-up still on. His eyes are piercing blue, but so full of warmth as he pats Kris's knee and says, "Is this too weird? Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to come to a show."

Kris smiles at Adam reading his mind. "No, it's exciting. It's not every day I date a celebrity."

"I'm hardly a celebrity," Adam says, waving his hands in what appears to be genuine embarrassment. "In some circles, maybe. Small circles."

"Well, that won't last long. You're _amazing_ ," Kris tells him. "Really incredible. I mean, your _voice_. It's like..." He trails off, realizing he's gushing, but Adam's grinning at him, his face lit up with pure joy, and Kris's palms go sweaty. Or maybe they already were; it's hard to tell. He wipes them on his pants, hoping Adam won't notice.

"Thanks, really. That means a lot, especially since you don't seem like a theater guy. I don't mean that in a bad way," he hastens to add, and Kris puts him out of his misery.

"No, I'm totally not. I loved it, though."

"I'm so glad," Adam says, putting his hand on Kris's knee again, and Kris can almost feel his skin vibrating under Adam's hand. He wonders how he didn't realize the guy thing years ago when he has these kinds of reactions to innocent knee-touching, but thinking back on the guys he's known, well... It's not like he'd get giddy if _Matt_ touched him.

They chat for a bit, mostly about the show, and then Adam says, "Here's my place." They get out of the limo and a doorman opens the door for them. Kris is impressed.

In the elevator, he says, "Nice building."

Adam smiles. "Thanks. It's about ten times the size of my place in L.A."

"Oh, you're from California?" Kris asks, realizing how little he knows about Adam.

"Yeah," Adam says, stepping out of the elevator and unlocking a door a few steps down the hall. "How about you? All I know is that you're southern."

"Arkansas," Kris tells him, following him into the apartment. It's much bigger than Kris's tiny studio. It actually has _rooms_. And it looks like he actually bought furniture from a store, rather than craigslist. There's art on the walls and throw pillows on the sofa that really match. Kris has another small panic attack. He's in no way good enough for a guy who has a freakin' chandelier.

"Stop making that face. Two years ago, I lived in a studio apartment over a deli. The place smelled like salami twenty-four-seven. I've been... lucky."

Kris feels embarrassed for being so transparent, but he smiles and says, "It's not luck. You're like, really talented."

"Well, I hear you are, too. Let me show you the kitchen. I'm way too excited to see you at work. I'm a big fan of eating," Adam says, laughing slightly self-deprecatingly.

Kris follows him into a gorgeous kitchen with a large gas range and actual counter space. At that moment, Kris really hopes things work out just so he can move in and adopt Adam's kitchen. "Make yourself at home," Adam says. "I'm going to go scrub off this make-up. I can feel it clogging my pores already. I have a ton of stuff that I don't even know how to use, but the lady at Williams-Sonoma said I had to have."

"You want me to just..." Kris makes a gesture to indicate pawing through Adam's drawers.

"Feel free. I keep all the _private_ things in the bedroom," Adam says with a wink, disappearing into the hallway.

Kris shakes his head a little. He's out of his depth here. On his other dates, there were plenty of times where he was intimidated or nervous, but the others were just _guys_. He could understand them. Adam's like... something else entirely. He shakes his head and opens the large stainless steel fridge.

It's almost totally empty. It startles a laugh from Kris that sounds way too loud as it echoes off the vaulted ceiling. There are exactly two eggs, some old take-out containers, a package of turkey lunchmeat with one slice left in it, and a bunch of condiments and booze. He roots around in the pantry – there's a _pantry_ \- and comes up short again. Lots of cans, but nothing that can really make anything. And there's steak in the _freezer_.

He's leaning on the counter when Adam returns. Kris has to bite the inside of his cheek because, wow. Scrubbed clean, Kris can see that Adam's eyes are even more startlingly blue and he's got freckles all over his nose and cheeks. He's gone from looking like an intimidating celebrity to looking like the boy next door. Okay, if Kris lived next door to some kind of House of Sexiness, but still.

"Wow," he says, not realizing he's said it out loud until Adam grimaces.

"Don't wow me. I'm not even trying here, I should be embarrassed," he says, gesturing to the thin white tank top and black yoga pants he's wearing. "And you're really cute, too, but I'm just so wiped after shows. I should have waited to have you over until I had a free night, but you just sounded so nice and you said you were seeing other people, too, and I was like, 'better take a chance while you've got it,' but then here I am putting on my jammies when there's an adorable guy in my kitchen who can _cook_ , and –"

Kris crosses to him in a couple of strides and kisses him, mostly to stop him from beating himself up, but also to see if the freckles on his lips taste as good as they look.

Turns out, they taste sort of like cold cream, but it's okay because Adam is a really amazing kisser. He grabs the small of Kris's back, pressing them together from mouths to knees, and Kris bends against him, perilously close to swooning. When they break apart to breathe, Kris says, "You don't have any food, you know."

It's a stupid and completely off-topic thing to say, but luckily Adam just says, "I'm not really interested in food right now," and leans in to kiss him again.

Adam gets both hands up Kris's sweater, spreading large and hot over the sweaty skin of Kris's back, a few fingers creeping low to inch under the waistband of his stupid tight pants. He can feel Adam's dick hard against his stomach and he doesn't know what makes him so bold, but he reaches a hand in between them and palms Adam through his thin pants. Adam is so hard and, wow, _really_ big, and since Kris's brain is set on Very Bold Autopilot, he sinks to his knees and tugs the pants up and over Adam's erection.

It's not like he's ever sucked dick before, so he's not quite sure what part of him thought it would be a good idea to try it now, on Adam's kitchen floor, but he's gonna look like an idiot if he stops now, so he wraps a hand around the base of Adam's dick and licks a path up the underside until he reaches the tip.

Adam tightens a hand in his hair and says, "Oh, god, _Kris_ ," which is exactly what Kris needed to hear, apparently, because he loses his fear and closes his mouth around the head of Adam's cock. Even an inexpert blowjob is better than no blowjob at all, he reasons. Besides, he knows what he liked when Katy used to do this for him, which is an advantage.

He seems to be doing a good job because Adam's making lots of encouraging noises and Kris can feel the hard muscles of Adam's thighs trembling against his shoulders when he leans in close. He wonders if perhaps he's got a natural talent for this, because he's enjoying the way Adam's dick feels sliding in and out of his mouth, over his lips and his tongue. He loves the noises Adam makes, and the way his cock twitches when Kris does something he likes. He even likes the taste, the smell, which he'd thought might be gross, but Adam just takes like soap and skin, and Kris takes as much of the length in as he can and sucks hard.

Adam bucks and curses, and Kris starts pumping with his hand, stroking Adam off into his own mouth, and when Adam comes, Kris swallows around his cock. The taste is funny and it feels like it's coating his throat. He gags a little when he pulls off, but he covers it with a small cough.

Adam joins Kris on the floor, sinking gracefully to his knees. Kris shifts to his butt and his knees are so sore from the ceramic tile floor that it hurts when he straightens them. Funny, he hadn't even noticed that he was uncomfortable. After a moment, Adam says, "Wow, I was _not_ expecting that."

Kris laughs a little, swallowing again. His mouth tastes kinda gross, but he's not sure if it would be rude to ask for a glass of water. "Me either."

"I guess you weren't lying about not needing to be turned."

He's not sure how Adam means that, so he doesn't answer. After another minute, he says, "You have steaks in your freezer."

"I thought you said I didn't have any food."

"Well, you don't. I can't cook frozen steaks! If my meat guy could see that... They were good steaks, too."

"Were?" Adam looks confused.

"It's my reputation on the line. I'm not going to touch frozen meat," he says with a shudder.

Adam laughs. "I don't know anything about food except what tastes good, I swear. I thought maybe I should have bought something but I didn't know what to get. Maybe we could order something? Or maybe we should go to bed," he suggests, lowering his voice and peeking at Kris through his eyelashes.

He's gorgeous, and the offer is tempting. Kris had been hard at some point, but concentration and distraction lost it for him. He'd like to get off, but he's afraid that Adam thinks he's kind of a slut now, on account of blowing him in the kitchen unprompted, and he's not sure how to proceed. "I don't really know..." He trails off, not sure what he's trying to admit to.

Adam looks at him, patiently waiting for him to think it over. Adam seems really nice, but he knows jack shit about him other than what he's picked up in the last hour. And Kris has already been embarrassingly forward, and Adam has _throw pillows_ and a really nice, really empty kitchen, and he thinks Kris is all experienced at gay sex, and for some reason, Kris starts panicking, like for real.

He gets up and says, "Actually, I kind of have to go. I – I have to work early tomorrow and I forgot to tell you that. My bad." He cringes as he fumbles to his feet. Who the hell says 'my bad' anymore? "So, I'll... I'll call you, okay? Sorry but I... I have to go."

With that, he flees the apartment, bypassing the elevator and running directly for the stairs. Even as he's hustling down the stairs, he realizes he's an idiot. He knows he should go back and explain everything to Adam and tell him why he freaked out, but he's embarrassed and ashamed and all he wants to do is go home and pull the covers over his head and hibernate until next year, like a big, stupid gay bear. 'Socially awkward' is the merely the tip of his iceberg.

____spacer____

  
Kris wakes up to his phone ringing, and has a horrible flashback to when this whole debacle started. He checks the caller ID and it's Megan. He groans and ignores the call, but she calls back immediately. Afraid that it might actually be a legitimate emergency instead of Megan's perpetual nosiness, he picks up. "What?"

"Dude, you made Page Six!"

"Page what?"

"The New York Post gossip column! It's online. 'New Beau For Broadway Babe.' There's a picture of you and everything!"

Kris groans and rolls over. It's almost noon, so he can't even kill her for waking him up early. Then he grasps what she's saying. "There's a picture of me online? With Adam?"

"Not just _online_! At the fucking New York Post! Are you with Adam still? You gotta show him. How did it go? He loves you, right?"

Kris groans again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, fuck, what did you do?"

"Nothing," Kris snaps, rubbing his eyes.

"Are you at home? No, of course you are, since you fucked it up. I'm coming over."

Kris sputters into the phone, but she's already gone. Since he's pretty sure Megan doesn't know where he lives beyond his subway stop, he feels secure enough to roll over and go back to sleep. He's awakened again by his intercom buzzing insistently.

He pads to the door and presses the button. "Yes?"

"It's me. Open the door, asshole."

Well, shit. Apparently she does know where he lives. It's useless to fight, though, because Megan's stubborn enough to stand outside and buzz his door until he goes insane, so he lets her up. When he opens the door, she pushes inside and whacks him on the shoulder. "What the hell did you do?"

Kris goes back over to the bed and flops on it face-first. Megan follows him. The problem with an apartment that's essentially one room is that you can't even have the satisfaction of slamming the door on someone unless you're willing to hide in the bathroom, which Kris isn't. He's not that far gone, thank you.

"What did you do?" she asks again, more gently this time. She perches on the end of the bed and puts a hand on his calf.

"I fucked it up," Kris says into the pillow.

"What happened, baby?"

Kris sighs and rolls over enough that he won't be muffled by the pillow, but not enough that he has to look Megan in the eye. "I went to the show, and he's just awesome. I mean, so talented, right? And really nice-looking."

"Fuck that, boy is _hot_. But continue."

"Yeah, okay, hot. So I met up with him after the show, and he's like... famous. I mean, all these people were screaming for autographs and just trying to touch him, and I felt like a total freak. Like what was I even doing there?"

"You did look a little scared in the pictures, to be honest."

"Oh, god."

"Stop, you still looked adorable. Now go on."

"Fine. So we went to his apartment, and it's really fancy and nice, and he's got this great kitchen, and he went and took off his makeup and he looked even better, and he was wearing this tank top and these tight pants and well... I kinda... Attacked him."

"Like violently?"

"No! Sexually," he admits, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Oh my god, you jumped him! What happened?"

"I... We were kissing, right, and I... I got on my knees right there in the kitchen, and well..."

"Kristopher Allen! You did not!" Megan screeches, slapping his leg a little too hard.

"Don't make me admit to it again."

"No worries, the visual is already etched in my memory. Now go on! Wait," she says slowly, like she's thinking something over. "Have you ever done that before? You and the rockstar guy, that was just kissing, right?"

"Well... Mostly."

"Kristopher!"

"Okay, there was some... rubbing."

"He dry-humped you?" Megan crows, slapping her thigh.

"Oh, for pity's sake! It wasn't _that_ big a deal," Kris says, feeling more and more skanky by the moment.

"So there was frottage. Okay. But with Adam and the whole mouth-on-parts thing? That was, like, your first time?"

"Oh god, don't say it that way," Kris moans, pressing his face back into the pillow.

"Don't be embarrassed. We all have to start somewhere. Wait, that's not how it got messed up, though, right? Did you, like, bite him or something?"

"No! I think I did a good job. He seemed to like it, I guess. It was after that. He was all, 'Want to go in the bedroom?' and saying how I obviously didn't need turning, and... Basically, I think he thought I was..."

"Easy? A sure thing? Of loose morals?"

"Please stop! Yes. Yes, okay. I think he thought I was a lot more experienced, and I didn't know how to tell him I wasn't because I'd just blown him on the kitchen floor, so I don't even know if he would have believed me, and I just felt like such an idiot! I mean, he's really, really nice, and sweet. And he was saying I was adorable, and he was worried about _me_ liking _him_ , and I was really into him – obviously – but I just messed everything up. What do I do?" he asks, rolling over and reaching for Megan, imploring.

"Hush, baby," Megan says, patting his hands. "We can fix this. Where's your phone?"

"Megan, you can't just call him and – what are you doing?" Megan's off the bed and rooting around in the pockets of the pants she bought him, which are still pooled on the floor where he left them last night.

She holds up his phone in triumph. Before he can even say a word, she's already got the phone to her ear. He makes frantic waving gestures at her but she ignores him. He buries his head under the pillow again, but even with the pillow over his ear, he can hear her say, "Voicemail."

"Hang up!" Kris yells from under the pillow.

"Hey Adam, my name's Megan. I'm Kris's friend, and I just want to apologize on his behalf for his behavior last night. See, he's newly gay and he didn't know how to tell you that he's never been with a guy before, except for a little dry-humping, and you thought he was all experienced because he got kinda crazy last night. But he's not experienced. At all. So, please don't judge him harshly. He's really wonderful once you get past the fact that he's a little slow. Talk to you later! Bye!"

She tosses the phone onto the bed, hitting Kris's calf. "See, now was that so hard?"

Kris groans. "I'm literally going to kill you. I'm going to wrap my hands around your neck and – " Before he can finish his threats, the phone rings. He glances at the screen. Adam. Shit. "I am _not_ answering that."

"Yes you are. And if you don't, I'll tell you everything Matt likes to do to me in bed."

"Ack!" Kris says, fumbling at the buttons on the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Kris." Adam's voice is full of barely restrained laughter, and Kris makes a strangling motion towards Megan who just raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm really sorry about... Everything. Especially about Megan."

Adam laughs. "You're pretty lucky to have a friend like that. I've been thinking you didn't like me."

"How could I not have liked you? You're so – I mean, uh, I liked you," Kris stammers, covering his eyes with his free hand. Megan's so right. He is an idiot and he really shouldn't be allowed to interact with people until he gets his act together. Which at this rate won't be for years.

"Thanks. I liked you too. Maybe we could try again? With actual conversation?"

Kris snorts. "I'm so terrible at this. But yeah, I'd like that."

"I'm doing the matinee today, so I'm free tonight," Adam says, and Kris's heart speeds up a little at the notion that Adam wants to see him so soon.

"Oh, I'm working, though. Wait, I never did get to cook for you. Why don't you come to the restaurant for dinner and you can sit at the chef's table in the kitchen."

"Wow, that would be amazing!" Adam sounds genuinely excited, and Kris is grinning from ear to ear as he gives the address and they agree on a time.

When they say goodbye, Kris hangs up and looks at Megan. She's looking at him strangely. "What?" he asks.

"You just invited him to the restaurant. The _restaurant_. Where Matt is going to make inappropriate jokes and Lil is going to grill him about his background and Simon will be a total dick to him? That restaurant?"

"Oh shit." Kris had _not_ thought that through. "I'm seriously so pathetically bad at this."

Megan sighs and sits down next to him, ruffling his hair. "Yeah. You really are."

____spacer____

  
To Kris's consternation, Megan insists on staying in his apartment while he showers and gets ready, as if he's going to try to escape or something. Although he supposes she's got a point because he did entertain a rather lengthy fantasy in the shower wherein he ran back to Arkansas and became a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. However, he hates mosquito bites and loves indoor plumbing, so he decides to face the music.

Megan takes him out to lunch, which is kind of nice of her. She owes him at least that much for subjecting him to the most intense embarrassment of his life. She even makes him go to a diner, saying that all diner food is the same so he won't be preoccupied with 'chef stuff' – her words.

He orders a strawberry milkshake, and things immediately seem less dire. That is, until Megan opens her mouth. "So I think things should be okay tonight as long as you can keep from blowing him in the kitchen."

"Megan!" he yelps, covering his mouth so that he doesn't spit milkshake on the table. "We just..." He waves his hand, trying to think of the right words.

"Had chemistry?" Megan suggests. When Kris nods, she rolls her eyes. "You had chemistry with that David, too, didn't you? I'm starting to think that this is less 'chemistry' and more decades of pent-up homosexual tendencies finally finding an outlet. I'm shocked you haven't jumped your mailman or something."

Kris shakes his head. "Maybe some of it is, I don't know. But Adam... Okay, see, with Ryan, it was like he was just so easy to talk you, you know? And David, it was like, bam!" He blushes a little just remembering. "Adam was, like, both. I could talk to him easily and we got along really well, but I also..."

"Wanted to blow him in his kitchen?"

Kris glances around, fervently hoping no one's listening to their conversation. "Yeah, I guess. So maybe the David thing was horniness. And the fact that he's really freakin' hot. But I really like Adam. He's... different."

Megan sighs happily, resting her hand on her chin, her eyes starry. "Now why can't I find a man like that?"

Sensing that the question is rhetorical, Kris doesn't ask her about Anoop and Matt. "Yeah, so I like him. And I want to get to know him in a non-blowjob capacity, so you have to make sure everyone's on their best behavior. Please?" He makes his best puppy eyes at Megan.

"Fine, but I can't control everyone. I can take care of the waitstaff and my boys, but Lil doesn't listen to anything I say, and you know she's going to want to pump Adam for information. And Simon's a total wild card, although I have a feeling he's going to be very pleased that you're getting a big star to come eat at his restaurant."

"Can we not talk about him being famous? It creeps me out. I just want to pretend he's a normal guy."

Megan steals a french fry from his plate with a quirky grin. "Silly, he's not a normal guy. He's your _beloved_." She looks earnest and excited, and even though Kris wants to be mad at her, he just can't. He still groans, though, and Megan rolls her eyes at him. "Look, we're your friends. We're not going to embarrass you. Too badly."

Kris heaves a sigh and takes another sip of his milkshake. It's going to be a really, really long night.

____spacer____

  
When Kris goes into Simon's, Megan goes with him, even though her shift doesn't start for a couple of hours. At first, Kris thinks she's there for moral support, which he appreciates, but he quickly realizes that she's there so she doesn't miss the three-ring circus that erupts at the news that Kris is bringing a _date_ to the restaurant.

"Can we keep it to a minimum?" Kris asks. "I regret the decision already."

"That must have been a hell of a first date if you're bringing him to meet the family," Matt says with a grin.

Megan does a blowjob gesture and Simon makes a face like he's being tortured. Kris leans his head on the counter and contemplates suicide. "Megan, please," Simon snaps. "We have a very important guest coming tonight, and I don't care what his relationship with Kris is. You are all to be on your best behavior, do you understand me?"

For once, Kris is very thankful that Simon's a hardass. When Simon goes back into his office, muttering something about needing a special dish for dinner service, Kris glares at everyone until they scurry off to their stations. "Nice, very menacing," Megan says, perching on the counter and looking as if she has no intention of leaving.

"You can go home, you know. You're not even supposed to be here," Kris tells her. She doesn't budge, though. "It's probably breaking ten health code regulations to have your butt on the counter," he says, trying a different tack.

She shrugs. "It wouldn't be the first time I caused a violation in here."

Kris really doesn't want to think about what happened in the walk-in, so he just starts working, determined to ignore everyone.

Unfortunately, his ignoring works a little too well because he's throwing some chicken into a pan when he looks up and realizes over an hour has passed since he last checked the clock, and he sees Adam standing near the doorway to the kitchen, watching him with a slightly awed expression on his face. Kris's stomach makes a little roller-coaster flip, and he gives himself a mental smack. Adam's just a guy. Nothing to freak out over. Really.

Kris quickly wipes his hands on his apron and shifts the chicken pan to a back burner. He hurries over, extending a hand. There's a bit of béarnaise sauce on his wrist, but Adam seems not to notice as he grabs it and squeezes. "Hi," Kris says. Adam's wearing an actual _suit_ , silvery with a midnight black shirt that makes his hair seem darker and his eyes bluer. He looks incredible. Kris grins nervously.

"Hi. Wow, you're like, a real chef," Adam says, grinning back.

Kris wants to ask what Adam expected, but he doesn't know how to say that without sounding like kind of a dick, so he doesn't answer. They stand there for a little bit too long, staring at each other and smiling. Kris is so far gone, it's not even funny.

That's when he realizes that everyone in the kitchen is standing around watching Kris and Adam staring at each other. Luckily Kris is saved from any comment by Simon hurrying over and sticking his hand out. "Mr. Lambert, we're so happy to have you here. Simon Cowell, head chef," he says, smiling toothily. "Get someone. Have them bring water," Simon hisses to Kris, and Kris rolls his eyes. Adam's _his_ date, but Simon seems determined to monopolize him.

Kris shrugs at Adam as if to say, 'Bosses. What can ya do?' and heads for the dining room to flag down a waiter or waitress. He's barely two steps into the dining room when Megan attacks him. "Oh my god, I love him!" she squeals.

"Who? Adam?"

"No, Barack Obama. Kris, I swear, did you have to ride the special bus to school?" Kris just stares at her until she gives in and continues. "Yes, _Adam_. He's even more beautiful in person! And so nice! I told him who I was, of course, and he thanked me for intervening. So nice of him! Not everyone appreciates my help."

"Your _meddling_ ," Kris corrects, although he's not angry about it anymore. The shame has faded to a dull ache somewhere in the back of his psyche. And it's sort of worth it to have Adam in his kitchen right now. Crap, Adam! "Hey, grab someone to take the chef's table, okay? Simon said to bring water."

"On it," Megan says, immediately shifting from pest to professional. "Now get in there and get to his heart through his stomach, mister."

Kris gives her a mocking salute and goes back into the kitchen. He wants to go over and talk to Adam, but Matt immediately yells, "Hey, Krispix! Get your ass to the stove; we're dying back here!"

He glances at Adam who merely gives him a gesture indicating that he should go ahead, so he dives in. It's not easy to forget that he's being watched. He can _feel_ Adam looking at him, and it makes him a little nervous. However, he's determined to show Adam the best he's got.

This is what he does. Adam's crazy talented, and maybe it's not as obvious to an outside observer, but Kris is too. He might not be able to make audiences believe he's in love with a green witch, but he can take ingredients and put them together and make things that cause people's eyes to roll back in their heads with delight. He got to see Adam's talent and passion last night in a Broadway theater. Now he wants to show Adam his.

Feeling Adam's eyes on him makes him want to be a little bit of a showman. He tosses sautéed vegetables high in the air before he catches them in the pan. He drizzles sauces and sprinkles herbs with as much flair as he can manage. He prepares tasting plates of every entrée on the menu that night, complete with their perfectly matched side dishes and garnishes. Every plate sent to Adam comes with a small smile from Kris – the only way he can say 'I did this for you' and not get teased within an inch of his life.

He doesn't let Matt get the best of him either, and even snaps at him once. Matt looks slightly insulted when Kris hands him back the steak he's cooked and barks, "That's not medium, put it back on!" and Kris can tell he wants to say something snotty. However, he glances at Adam and meekly throws the steak back on the grill.

Kris can't believe Matt is actually behaving, but he imagines Matt's going to make him pay for that kindness when they're alone. But apparently making fun of Kris in front of a potential boyfriend is too low, even for Matt.

Simon works the pass like a drill sergeant as usual, but he refrains from personal insults for once. Although that's undoubtedly because _he_ wants to impress Adam, not because he wants _Kris_ to impress Adam.

It's still nice, though, and when Kris finally has a second to breathe when the dinner rush is over, he heads to the chef's table and finds Adam surrounded by empty tasting plates. "Enjoying your meal?"

Adam groans, putting a hand on his stomach. "It's official. I can't date you. If I do, I'm going to get _so_ fat."

"I make really good salads, too," Kris says, grinning. "So you've liked everything? You haven't been bored?"

"The food was way too good. And watching you cook it was even better," he says with a little grin that makes Kris shiver. "So I wasn't bored at all. Plus, your friends have been keeping me company."

Kris is blushing from the compliment, but then blind panic hits him and his knees buckle a little. "Shit."

Adam laughs. "No, everyone's been really nice. Lil asked me a lot about my family background and my intentions. But I think I passed muster."

Kris sinks into the chair next to Adam's, hiding his face in his hand. After a moment, he meets Adam's eyes, but Adam seems perfectly happy. "So what is your family background? And your intentions? Lil shouldn't get to know if I don't."

They start talking, and despite the fact that Kris keeps getting interrupted, the conversation flows very nicely. Kris learns that Adam's from San Diego, is Jewish but not practicing, likes astrology and funny movies, and that he thinks long walks on the beach are highly overrated. By the time the last of the entrees are out, Kris feels like he's actually getting to know Adam.

Lil calls him for help on the last few desserts and he's swirling raspberry sauce on a cheesecake plate when Adam comes up behind him. "You have some sauce right here, and it's been bugging me," Adam says with a quick smile, reaching up to wipe a bit of something off Kris's temple.

"Thanks," Kris says, looking up at Adam. The temperature in the kitchen, already way too hot for comfort, seems to go up a few degrees.

"Get a room!" Matt yells, which is really unfair, as they weren't doing anything but _looking_ at each other.

Adam backs away from Kris, palms up in supplication. "Just being helpful," he says, his voice teasing.

"Yeah, you looked like you wanted to help him right out of his pants," Lil says, raising an eyebrow at Adam.

"Was I that transparent?" Adam asks, looking at Kris as he says it. Kris has to tug at his collar. His chef's coat suddenly seems far too tight.

"Hey, go easy on Kris," Matt says. "He's a virgin, you know."

"I am not!" Kris snaps, and Adam has to grab onto the edge of the counter to keep from falling over with laughter. "Stop trying to tell people I'm a virgin!"

Matt shrugs and goes back to scraping the grill. He doesn't look at all repentant, though.

"Here," Lil says, taking pity on him. She thrusts a box at him. "Megan's closed the house. Nobody's gonna eat these. You boys take them and run along. Matt will help me finish up, won't you baby?"

Matt aims a death glare at Kris, but he says, "Fine. But you owe me one. Both of you. All of you. Even Adam."

Adam laughs. "Worth it." He grabs Kris's hand and starts pulling him toward the doors to the dining room.

"Wait, I need to stop at my locker," Kris says, tightening his grip on Adam's hand and steering him. He strips off his chef's coat, leaving him in just his thin tank. Adam stands in the doorway holding the box, making no secret of the fact that he's watching. Kris takes a deep breath and shucks his white pants, too, hurriedly grabbing his jeans and pulling them on. His fingers feel clumsy on the buttons of his plaid shirt. He should be used to Adam watching him by now, but watching him cook and watching him dress are two different ballgames.

When he's decent, Kris meets Adam's eyes. There's so much heat there that Kris has to draw in a quick breath. "There's a back entrance," he says finally. "Megan will want to talk if we go out the front." Adam nods in understanding and follows Kris. They're nearly out when Simon notices his celebrity guest leaving. He calls something to them, but Kris hisses that Adam should pretend he didn't hear.

Kris isn't sure whether it's how Adam's been looking at him, or the way Adam standing close to him makes him sweat, or the fact that he wants to prove that he's definitely _not_ a virgin, but he's pretty sure that he's going to have sex with Adam.

He probably should have done some more googling first, but he really doesn't want to wait. Megan's probably right – damn her – that he's had way too many years of not having sex with men, and he's not going to waste any more time if he can help it. And the way Adam tucks Kris under his arm and holds him tight while they stand at the curb can only be described as _possessive_ , and it makes Kris think that Adam doesn't want to wait either.

Adam raises his arm for a cab and says, "Your place or mine?" with a smirk that says he knows it's cliché and he doesn't care.

"Yours," Kris says immediately. "I mean, if it's okay."

"I understand. You want to visit my kitchen."

"It'll be worth your while. I'll make you breakfast in the morning."

Adam's gaze grows heavier – if that's possible – and Kris wonders if he was too forward. Although he wants Adam to know that he intends to follow through this time. He's not going to run away again. "I didn't buy any food," Adam says finally, his face going from predatory to sheepish.

"We'll order in," Kris says, grinning at the déjà vu.

They pass the cab ride mostly in silence, the box on the seat between acting as a chaperone. When they get up to Adam's apartment, Kris takes the box into the kitchen, and checks the contents. He sends Lil a mental thank you and turns on the oven. Adam follows him in and watches as Kris strokes the range fondly.

"I really think you mostly like me for my kitchen. And can't we just use the microwave? It's way faster," Adam says, taking off his jacket and draping it over the back of a barstool.

Kris shakes his head. "Only if you want to ruin them forever. And I hope you don't mind that I..."

"Started petting my stove? No. I told you that you should cook for me before I even met you. It should be clear that I don't really do 'boundaries.' Although you probably shouldn't molest the appliances. I'm getting jealous over here."

Kris snickers. "This has been a really weird couple of weeks," he says, pushing the soufflés into the hot oven.

"I would imagine. Coming out of the closet is, like, _major_."

"Actually, I don't think I was in the closet," Kris says with a shrug. "Everyone else already knew. Even I knew. I just didn't want to admit it, I guess. And it didn't help that my ex-fiancée was the first person to confront me with it. Then I _really_ didn't want to admit it."

"No kidding! No one wants their ex to be right. About anything."

"Right. But once I realized everyone already knew – or thought they did, anyway – and not only didn't they care, but they were actually supportive, well... It's like they already did the hard part for me. All I had to do was embrace it," Kris explains, reaching a hand into the oven to poke a soufflé.

"Aren't you going to burn yourself doing that?" Adam asks.

"Right," Kris says, grinning at Adam. "Spend enough time in a kitchen and you get immune to burns. Anything first degree, I don't even feel."

"Tough guy, eh?" Adam says, loosening his tie and sidling closer to Kris. "And aren't you supposed to keep the door closed when you make soufflés anyway?"

"That's when you're cooking them. I'm just reheating," Kris says, slightly breathless from Adam's body, so close but not touching.

"Are they finished yet? I'm hungry." Kris shivers a little. Adam doesn't look like he's talking about dessert.

"I need to reheat the sauce. Do you have a double boiler?" Adam looks at him like he's insane. "Fine, a small saucepan and a metal bowl?"

Kris improvises, and moments later, he pulls the soufflés out, lifting the ramekins off the baking sheet and onto the counter with his bare hands, just because he can. He carefully slits the crown of each soufflé and pours a generous dollop of sauce into each one. He grabs a spoon and takes a big scoop. "Blood orange soufflé with dark chocolate and Grand Marnier sauce," he says, aiming the spoon at Adam. He expects Adam to take the spoon from him, but instead, Adam opens his mouth and lets Kris feed him.

Adam makes a noise that can't be described as anything other than orgasmic when his lips close around the spoon. When he swallows, he says, "Oh my _god_."

"I know, right? Lil's a genius."

"Forget you, is Lil available?" Adam asks, taking the spoon from Kris and digging into the soufflé again.

Kris laughs. "She's married."

"Alas! Alack!" Adam says dramatically, gesturing with his spoon.

When the last drop of chocolate sauce has been scraped up, Adam puts his hand on his stomach. "It's official. I've gained twenty pounds tonight."

Kris nods seriously. "Your only option is gastric bypass."

Adam laughs. "I like that you don't bite when I fish for compliments."

"Because if I start complimenting you, I'm going to get all..." he waves his hands to indicate something between gushing and hysterical."I'll make an ass of myself."

Adam smiles a little and takes Kris's face between his hands, leaning in close. His breath is heavy and sweet with chocolate and oranges and Kris leans up, looping his arms around Adam's neck. Adam kisses him slowly, taking Kris's bottom lip between both of his, just tasting, touching.

After a minute, Adam says, "I know you like my kitchen, but would you like to see the bedroom?"

"Yeah," Kris says, taking deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart.

Adam's room is less put-together than the rest of the house, which makes Kris feel slightly better. Knowing that at least part of Adam is just a regular guy who leaves his jeans on the floor and stacks CDs in haphazard towers is reassuring. Adam doesn't apologize for the mess either. He just moves to the bed, pulling Kris along with him.

Adam sits down on the edge of the bed and tugs Kris to stand in between his splayed knees. Adam wraps his arms around Kris, holding the dip of his lower back possessively. Kris leans down for another kiss, and as their mouths move together, Adam moves his hands to start working on the buttons of Kris's plaid shirt.

He pushes it off Kris's shoulders and Kris helpfully shimmies out of it until it falls to the floor. He's still wearing his tank underneath, and Adam pulls him down until Kris is straddling his lap and then Adam fastens his teeth on Kris's collarbone.

Kris grunts and squeezes his thighs around Adam's hips. Things have suddenly gotten very real, and this feels a lot more major than giving a blowjob. He wonders if he should say something about not having done this before, but Adam knows it already.

Adam pulls off Kris's undershirt, discards it, and works a hand down the back of Kris's pants, all in a matter of seconds. Kris starts making noises that he probably should be embarrassed by, but he can't be bothered because Adam's sucking a monster hickey onto his collarbone and tracing his fingers down the crack of Kris's ass and it's just too much to focus on at once.

Then Adam does some kind of ninja move or something, and Kris is under him, pressed into the bed. Adam's hands are on his belt, and Kris is really glad Adam isn't stopping to ask him if he's okay. He's afraid he might say no.

Adam gets up and pulls Kris's pants and underwear down to his ankles, and Kris sits up enough to kick them onto the floor, pulling off his socks self-consciously and dropping them on top of his pants. Adam's just standing there, fully dressed, _looking_ at him. Kris has an intense desire not to be the only one naked, so he stands too, pulling at Adam's tie until he works the knot loose.

He lets the tie fall into the growing pile of clothes and goes to work on Adam's shirt buttons. Adam unfastens his cufflinks and shrugs out of the shirt. He crosses to the dresser and drops the cufflinks into a dish on the top, and pulls off several rings and necklaces, adding them to the pile. Then he opens a top drawer and grabs a couple of condoms and a bottle of lube.

Kris sits down on the bed, trying valiantly not to freak out. If he was scared when he'd gone into the back room with David, now he's _terrified_. "No pressure," Adam says, setting the stuff on the bedside table. "We can do whatever you want to do."

"Okay," Kris says. He's not sure what else to say. Adam unfastens his belt and slips his pants off. He takes the time to drape them over an armchair, and then slides off his briefs, still with his back to Kris. And wow. If Megan thinks _Kris_ has a nice ass, she should see Adam. Although, Kris isn't going to let her check it out if he can help it.

Then Adam turns around and Kris forgets about Megan and everything else. "Whoa," he says, not intending to say it out loud.

"Thanks," Adam says with a smirk. Then he slinks over to the bed and pushes Kris's shoulders back until he's flat on the bed. He crawls on top of Kris and rubs his dick alongside Kris's. And isn't that a revelation? He thought rubbing off on a guy through jeans was fun, but this is... Wow. Everything his sex life has been missing since puberty is encompassed in the gentle slip-slide of Adam's hips against his own.

Things go from strange and a little silly to completely overwhelming in a matter of seconds. Adam's grinding against him harder, sucking his neck and his lips and anything else he can get his mouth on. Then Adam tips off him, rolling Kris to his side a bit. He folds one of Kris's legs up so that he can get his hand between them and he pushes against Kris's hole with blunt fingertips. There's no lube so he can't get anywhere, but the pressure makes him jerk his hips off the bed and moan.

"Can I...?" Adam asks, and Kris really wants to say yes.

"I... I want you to, but we have to go slow, okay? I've only done a couple of fingers before and you're really big, and..."

"Fuck slow," Adam says, nipping at Kris's lower lip. "I can't wait. You do me."

"Do _you_?" Kris asks. "I thought you... I mean, I just assumed..."

"Yeah. I do. But variety is the spice of life, right?" Adam asks between more nibbles. He pinches one of Kris's nipples, a quick sharp pain the makes him gasp, but doesn't really hurt. "You've fucked girls before. You know how to do it. Same idea. More lube."

Kris nods his assent and Adam rolls away from him, grabbing the lube bottle. Kris doesn't know what he's supposed to do, but Adam doesn't seem to need help. He reclines against the pillows, feet splayed, and drips lube onto his fingers. He rubs between his legs, preparing himself. When he pushes a finger inside, Kris is hit with a wave of desire so hard that it _hurts_.

"Condom. Now," Adam says, slipping another finger inside. Kris scurries to comply, tearing the packet with shaky fingers and rolling it on. It's been almost a year, but he remembers how to do this at least.

Adam sits up then, rubbing the excess lube from his fingers onto the length of Kris dick. "Lie down," he says, and Kris obeys. He holds his breath as Adam straddles him, his impossibly long legs arranged artfully on either side of Kris's hips. Adam grasps Kris's cock and holds it upright, sliding it across his body until he finds just the right place. Then he pushes down, easing onto Kris with one slow easy motion.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Kris says, because this is an occasion for bad language if ever there were one. The squeeze is so tight that it borders on painful, and Adam's expression of absolute rapture is so beautiful that Kris wishes he could paint it. He can't paint for shit, though, so he settles for grabbing Adam's hips and pushing up against his body.

It's surprisingly easy to find a rhythm because this is as familiar to Kris as it is strange. Even though his brain is screaming _'New! Different!'_ his body remembers what to do. He slams his hips upward, meeting each of Adam's downward thrusts until the sound of their skin smacking together is the only thing Kris can hear over the dull roar in his ears. That is until Adam starts talking.

"Yeah, baby, that's it, fuck me. Fuck me with that pretty cock, yeah. Feels so fucking good, yeah, harder. Do it harder; I'm not a girl. Fuck me!"

Kris lurches up, holding himself on one arm as he wraps the other around Adam's waist, leaning in to kiss Adam's dirty mouth, even as he uses his new angle to pound upwards. His abs and thighs and arms are burning but he keeps going. Adam wrestles a hand in between their bodies to stroke himself off and moments later, Kris feels Adam's body clench around his dick as he comes, hot wetness smearing between their stomachs.

Adam keeps swearing and supplicating through it, and Kris drops his shoulders back on the bed, grabbing Adam's firm ass in both hands and thrusting until he comes.

They collapse on the bed, sweaty and boneless. After a moment, Adam gets up and goes into the adjoining bath. He comes back with a washcloth and removes the condom for Kris, wiping him off a bit. It's sexy in a strange way, like a geisha or something, and Kris mumbles a thank you. He feels like he's blushing a little. He just fucked the hell out of a dude. Who knew he had it in him? He thinks Megan will probably be very proud.

After another minute in the bathroom, Adam joins him in bed. "Now that we've taken the edge off, we can work on you next."

Kris groans. "Can we wait until tomorrow?"

Adam pokes him. "You're supposed to be newly gay and adventurous," he complains.

"Hey, I just worked all night. Give me at least an hour, okay? You can wake me up."

"Sounds like a plan," Adam says, curling around him.

He never does wake Kris up.

____spacer____

  
In the morning, Kris rolls over and sees Adam next to him. Sleepy and tousled, he looks nothing like the sharp-dressed man who'd arrived at Simon's last night. He looks younger, softer, and Kris resists the urge to stroke his face. Instead he scoots out from under Adam's arm and goes into the bathroom.

After he pees and splashes water on his face, he feels somewhat more human. He goes back to the bedroom and sees that Adam's still dead to the world, so he puts his underwear on and heads for the kitchen.

Adam wasn't lying about not having shopped, but there's baking mix in the pantry, and some milk that isn't expired and those two eggs in the fridge, so Kris is able to put together a makeshift pancake batter. He's about to flip his second batch when Adam wanders in, naked and tousled. Kris stares at him for so long that the pancakes nearly burn.

They eat pancakes at the small breakfast nook, Kris in his underwear and Adam in nothing at all, and it feels really amazing. Really right.

"So," Adam starts. His tone is a little too deliberately casual and Kris is instantly on edge. "Are you still calling those guys from the personal ad? I mean, I know it's a little early to have that kind of talk, but I was just wondering… Purely out of curiosity."

Kris pours more syrup, mulling it over. "You know, this feels sort of like what I'm supposed to be doing right now. I mean, you have this amazing kitchen…"

"Shut up!"

"And you want me to cook for you and you don't make me feel like I'm boring," Kris continues.

"But you've only really been out for, what, a couple of weeks?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's like that. I think… I think I was w –"

"Do _not_ say you were waiting for me! That's so lame!"

Kris punches Adam lightly in the arm, but he doesn't say it. However, that doesn't make it any less true. He just takes another bite of pancakes and shrugs. "I'm not gonna call anyone else. Even though you think I'm lame, I kind of like you. Let's just see where this goes."

____spacer____

  
 **One Year Later**

"What do you mean you're not changing the name? You don't need to be so humble!" Megan complains.

"A lot of people know it as Simon's. If we change the name, they'll think it's a whole new place," Kris explains. Not for the first time, either.

"But you're changing the menu," Matt points out.

"Yes, but people like coming to Simon's. If they come in and there's a few new things on the menu, they'll trust the quality of those things because they trust the restaurant. They won't trust 'Café Kris' or whatever."

"That is the worst name for a restaurant I've ever heard," Adam says, coming up behind Kris and ruffling his hair.

"Right?" Matt says triumphantly, reaching out to clasp Adam's hand in greeting.

"Which is why I'm not changing the name!"

Anoop leans out through the kitchen doors. "Hey, head chef! I have a question about this shipment from the beef guy."

Kris rolls his eyes dramatically, but he follows Anoop back to his office. When Simon had announced that he was retiring and asked if Kris wanted to take over, Kris had reservations of course, but Adam talked him into it. And it turned out Adam had been right. Kris actually loves being in charge. He's been able to make a lot of good changes, like getting more of their produce from local farmers, and adding some vegan options.

He answers Anoop's questions and goes back to the dining room to find Megan on Adam's lap. "Do we have to have that conversation again?" Kris asks, and Megan slides off Adam, pouting prettily.

"You're not my boss anymore," Megan tells him. She's very proud of the fact that Adam hooked her up with a spot in the chorus of his new musical. He's playing Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar. Kris has no doubt he'll win another Tony for this one.

"Hush up, Megs. I've brought good news for your ex-boss," he announces, brandishing a copy of _Food & Wine_. "Guess who got a write-up?"

Kris's heart starts beating double-time and he grabs the magazine. He skims at first, and the adjectives he's seeing applied to his restaurant and his food are nothing short of glowing. Matt snatches the magazine and starts reading aloud. Kris sinks into a chair next to Adam and they smile at each other.

"Thanks," Kris says, squeezing Adam's hand.

"No, this one is all you. But if you want to blow me in the kitchen tonight for old time's sake, I won't turn it down."

Matt pauses in his reading to make a gagging noise, but Kris and Adam ignore him. Kris leans close to Adam and says, "It's a date."


End file.
